


Such Bold and Bloody Causes

by DebraHicks



Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-29
Updated: 2011-03-29
Packaged: 2017-10-17 08:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/175055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebraHicks/pseuds/DebraHicks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small group of miners, being threatened by a town boss, get some unexpected help from seven lawmen.  Sometimes being brave enough to do the right thing comes with a heavy cost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Such Bold and Bloody Causes

Such Bold and Bloody Causes

 

      "Come on, Ezra," Nathan urged. "We can still make Buckhorn by sundown."

      His friend glanced up at him in complete disbelief. Ezra was sitting at what passed for a gambling table in the miners' camp, three boards pushed together on two sawhorses. Nathan watched Ezra's green eyes flick from him to the pile of nuggets and bags of gold dust resting in front of him.

      Smiling, Ezra said, "Mister Jackson, since we are on holiday, I see no reason to hurry on to purchase supplies. I plan on spending at least a few more hours of my well deserved rest right here."

      They had more or less been ordered out of town for a while. Things had been quiet and they had managed to drive their leader, Chris Larabee to distraction with one thing or another.  The others, Buck, JD and Josiah, had decided that a hunting trip was in order. There had been general shock when Ezra had announced his intent to come along - until he had mentioned the miners up in the mountains starving for, as he put it, "civilized entertainment." Josiah had laughed at his five-card version of entertainment. Right now the southerner's trip was proving to be a profitable one as he was winning heavily.

      Nathan fought away his smile. He knew the others, and Ezra, were waiting for him to lecture the man on the evil of gambling, on his lack of moral character and taking advantage of the miners. The truth was that he had never objected to Ezra's gambling, at least not since he had become convinced that the man wasn't cheating. It was a perfectly acceptable way to spend time.

      "Reckon we all got a way to relax," he said, enjoying the shock on Ezra's face.

      "Can any of you gentlemen tell me if there is a saloon in Buckhorn?" Josiah asked into the stunned silence caused by Nathan's words.

There was a long pause before one of the miners answered with the slightest bit of hesitation in his tone. "Yeah, there's a saloon, couple of stores and a bath house."

      Before Nathan could address the hesitation, JD asked, "Bath? With warm water?"

      The healer had to smile at the wistful tone in their young sheriff's voice. JD was fast learning the difference between winter in Boston and winter in the wilds of New Mexico. He still remembered his own shock when he'd fled from the warmth and slavery of Alabama.

      "Why don't you catch up with us tomorrow?" Nathan suggested to Ezra. "You oughta have cleaned out these poor fellows by then."

      Nathan's words caused two of the men to turn and look at the black healer. He smiled pleasantly back, ignoring the glare Ezra gave him. Just because he didn't see the harm in the game didn't mean he couldn't josh Ezra.

      When the men turned to stare more closely at the dapper gambler, Ezra only smiled. "An excellent suggestion, Mister Jackson. I'm certain that I can provide these good gentlemen with fair evenings entertainment to break up their long hours."

      "Be careful on these trails, Ezra," Josiah reminded him.

      Giving the other three men a slight tip of his head, Ezra answered their concern and turned back to his cards.

 

      "Should we take a little break, gentlemen?" Ezra ventured. "I find myself in need of some sustenance."

      The leader of the group, a man named Rodgers, smiled at him. "If that means you're hungry, I think the rest of us can go along with that."

      Realizing besides the makeshift bar, there didn't seem to be any place offering food, Ezra scratched idly at his neck. "Is there a place a traveler might heat up a can of stew?"

      Rodgers smiled at him. "Come on to my place. My wife should have something cooked up by now."

      The invitation surprised him. "You have your wife here?"

      "We all do," another man volunteered.

      They started escorting him out the door. "We've been settled in here for a few months now," Rodgers continued. "Most of us sent for our families 'fore summer."

      Coming out into the bitter cold, Ezra was touched with a slight feeling of guilt over taking the men's money. He had assumed that only the miners themselves would dare the hardships here. While he was sure Nathan would never believe him, he had been careful to spread the losses around, not winning a huge amount off any one man. No one had seemed very upset over their losses. In Ezra's experience that meant they could afford the game. He had been truthful when he told Nathan that he felt the men probably considered this a well-earned evenings entertainment.

      Still, it never hurt to be careful. He had no desire to cause anyone undue hardship. "I would assume then that your claims are being fruitful."

      "Oh yeah," Rodgers assured him. "We're doing pretty good."

      "If we live long enough to spend it."

      Ezra stopped, turning toward the fourth man following. He was younger than the other men, probably only a little older than JD, though his lined face proved his harder life. Rodgers had also come to a stop and for just an instant Ezra saw anger in the man's blue eyes. It faded quickly though and Rodgers gently shook the other man's arm.

      "Now, Schmidt, there's no need to start in on our trouble in front of Mister Standish here. He's only here to play poker, not listen to us whine."

      Schmidt started to speak, finally nodded. "Okay, Carl. I'll save it for the judge next week."

      "Judge Travis?" Ezra questioned.

      There was a sudden drop in the temperature around him. All four men stepped closer, eyeing him with suspicion. "What do you know about Judge Travis?" Rodgers asked.

      Warily, Ezra said, "I work for the honorable Judge."

      A glance of disbelief went around the small circle. Finally, Rodgers said, "Let's get in before we all freeze."

 

      The meal had been hearty and filling, the conversation sobering. Ezra leaned back in his chair, pushing his plate to the side. "My heartfelt appreciation for that meal, Missus Rodgers. I've not had finer fare since I left Kansas City."

      The women smiled at him. "Thank you, Mister Standish, though I have a feeling you probably say that any time a woman feeds you."

      He didn't correct her, enjoying the teasing as much as the meal. Turning back to the man sharing the table, he addressed their concerns. "Gentlemen, it would seem to me that you have nothing to worry about. Everything you have told me would confirm your being the legal owners of this land. I know that Judge Travis is a scrupulously fair individual. He will listen to Mister Reagan's claim but will find by the legal documents."

      Rodgers nodded wisely. "We believe that. What we're worried about is Reagan trying to drive us out before the judge has a chance to rule."

      "If we leave the land voluntarily, he has a right to file a second claim," Bill offered.

      "That's why our credit at the store in town is no good now," Barton, the oldest of the group explained.

      Ezra sighed as he listened. All he'd wanted was a quiet night of poker. A rueful smile touched his lips though he hid it well. It seemed since joining the group he ended up helping whether he wanted to or not. Knowing already where the conversation was going, Ezra cut to the chase.

      "Gentlemen, since you are worried about Mister Reagan turning to violence in order to establish his claim, and since the good judge is due in only ten days, I don't think it would be a problem for myself and my three companions to stay until he arrives."

      Smiles broke out on everyone's faces and Mrs. Rodgers laid a hand on her husband's shoulder. Before anyone could say anything, Ezra qualified that with, "I do think we should inform the judge of what we plan and I will have to ride to get the others."

      Several expressions fell. Bill said, "The nearest telegram is in Buckhorn but the operator is sure to report back to Reagan."

      Ezra smiled. "If we can ascertain the location of the telegraph line, I'm sure we can bypass the need for an operator."

 

      Ezra burrowed a little deeper into the blankets with a slight smile. They had found a suitable telegraph line within a few miles of the valley. Sending the telegraph, using his Colt and derringer as base and key, had been an enjoyable little breach of the law for a good reason. Upon their return to camp the miners had granted him the use of the gaming tent for the night. The others retired at the early hour of midnight. The meager heat put out by the potbellied stove did little to ward off the below freezing temperature driving him to bed only a few hours later.  While he had been known to sleep through shootouts in town, the unfamiliar noises of a dawn forest pulled him awake.

      His stomach growled and he wondered if his credit as a lawman would stand him to breakfast. A wave of sound hit him and he straightened up, keeping the blanket around him. The dogs in camp were starting to bark in earnest. A cold having nothing to do with the season settled around him. He grabbed his boots. Pounding hooves now sounded through the valley, joined by shouts of panic.

      The first shot shattered the other noises as he reached the tent flap. A group of fifteen men were just emerging from the trees at the side of the river clearing, the shifting dawn light gave a strangely soft look to the killers. The cows and goats in the open field became their first victims. Ezra turned to get a better idea of the situation only to see a few of the miners running toward the riders from their tent homes. Ezra waved them back.

      "No! No!" He grabbed Rodgers as the other man ran toward him. "We have to hold them back while the women and children make for the woods!"

      Whether it was the logic in the order or some need to have the gambler-turned-lawman lead, Ezra didn't know, but Rodgers stopped. Ezra's hand tightened on his arm. "Is there someplace they can hide?"

      "Old mine-shaft."

      "Get anyone with a gun in behind those water breaks," Ezra said calmly.

      The crash of destruction followed them up as the sprinted into the only cover available. Rodgers ran passed the others, talking to several of the men and women, gesturing toward the hills behind them. Ezra had time to run back into the tent and grab his rifle before joining the line of men hiding behind the wooden supports. It occurred to him that this was not his fight; that he could easily outride the attacking men. He was not the hero type; he was not Chris or Vin. A bullet slammed into the wood next to him. He turned to fire.

      The miners joined him, offering protection as the six women and dozen children moved stealthily into the woods. The horsemen had finished shooting up the livestock and were now turning their fire completely on the dozen men behind the barricade.

      A bullet slammed into the wood next to him, driving splinters into his shoulder through the thick wool coat. He flinched but held his fire. There were eleven badly armed, badly shaken miners and himself, opposing fifteen gunhands. To his dismay he realized that it was up to him to take as many of the marauders down as possible. He only hoped the cover offered by the others would at least buy him more room to move.

       He glanced around, seeing that the women were safe. Rising up, he fired three carefully placed shots, taking out one of the men and causing the other two to miss their shots.

      "Bill, Harlan!" Ezra called, trying to be heard over the gunshots but not loud enough to carry to the attackers. "Slip away..."

      "No!" Bill protested. "This is our fight..."

      "You have to protect the women and children!" Ezra snapped, ducking as another bullet cut by very close.

      "Go," Rodgers added his voice to the urgency.

      "Now!" Ezra yelled. Once more he rose above the barricade and fired into the milling horsemen, wounding another one.

      The two men slipped into the thankfully still dark forest. Vaguely, Ezra wondered whether Chris would be pleased with his fast planning or whether he had merely sent the innocents into a different spot to die. Anger took over his calm control. He was not going to let that happen. The horsemen had fallen back a little, surprised at the opposition. Ezra fumbled for more bullets, watched the other men do the same. Ezra looked up to see the tall, bearded leader spot their weakness at the same time as he did. If a few of the attackers made it across the creek, the miners would be caught in a crossfire.

      "Damn," Ezra muttered.

      "What now?" Bill demanded.

      Ezra took a deep breath, trying to calm the shaking of his hands as he shoved the last of his reload into the rifle. "We have to get across the stream, hold them from the other side."

      It was, Ezra realized, a desperate play, that meant running across open ground in front of mounted horsemen. It was their only hope, though. Once more he glanced into the woods, looking for a miracle tucked in the trees. Looking over at Rodgers, he saw the realization of their situation hit the other man. The miner went a little pale but nodded gamely.

      Laying the rifle down, tightening his hand on the Remington, Ezra slipped the conversion free from the shoulder holster as well. There was a shout from the marauders. Ezra took a quick look over the meager barricade, picking out what he hoped was a survivable escape route.

      Turning back, he tipped his hat to Rodgers. "Good luck, sir."

      With shouts of anger, fear and hope, the eight men charged out, firing and running. Ezra saw one man go down, didn't know which one. He paused in the middle of the small stream, firing twice and taking down two of the charging men. A bullet slammed into his side, sending him sideways, bringing a startled yell of pain. Turning, he staggered toward the rocks that were his only hope. His legs flew out from under him as he took a second bullet. Rolling, trying to fight the pain, he brought his right hand gun up and killed the man riding down on him. He pushed up, only to be sent back down by a third shot. The pain was swallowing him now. He felt the fourth bullet burn into his side and had a quick thought for his six friends, then there was merciful darkness.

 

      "Strange telegram," Judge Travis commented, having read through it twice.

      Chris smiled to himself. It was very obvious Ezra had sent it. He had seen the conman use the wire before. The tough part for Ezra was shortening the sentences enough to get them sent.

      "So, when were you wanting to head out, Judge?" Chris asked.

      The older man frowned. "I have a trial tomorrow in Eagle Bend but I see no reason we can't leave right after that. Figure a two day ride to the camp."

      "If the weather holds up in the high country," Vin added, joining them.

      "Yeah," Chris agreed. He looked at the long message again. It didn't sound desperate, though Ezra had suggested extra ammo and supplies. Still, something was nagging at him and he knew better than to ignore it. "Vin, I'll stick with the Judge, you go on and get up there. And be sure to 'arrange an adequate supply of ammunition to help hold off these miscreants'" he read from the telegram, shaking his head at the southerner's familiar wording.

      Vin nodded and tipped his hat to the other two. "Never pays to underestimate miscreants."

      As Vin headed down the sidewalk in front of the Clarion, Travis asked, "Trouble, Mister Larabee?"

      "Ain't it always, Judge?"

      Smiling, the judge turned toward the telegraph office. "I think I'll see what I can find out about Mister Reagan before we start our little journey."

       

      Nathan dug into his eggs. He had been reluctant to come into the salon on his own, not wanting any trouble to spoil the cold morning but hunger and the smell of fresh bacon drew him inside. The barkeep had merely taken his order, not offering any comment. The breakfast was cheap and so far pretty good. The others would be sorry they overslept. With a smile, he admitted, or not. They had all managed a bath and a hard evening's drinking, so sleeping wasn't a bad proposition.

       The doors in front of him swung open, allowing five unhappy, rough looking men to approach the bar. "Chase, whiskey, on the boss."

      The barkeep filled five glasses. The men tossed back the first one, motioned for another. "Boss is gonna be riled," one of the men said. There were sounds of agreement all around. "We only got a few of them."

      "Too bad about Ken, Smith and Asa," another one said.

      "Yeah, who would have expected those miners to be so tough."

      Without the slightest outward sign, Nathan's full attention now turned to the men.

      "Hell, wasn't any of those damn tinpans," the first one said. "Was that bastard in the red jacket. He was the only one could shoot worth a damn."

      A chill started along the back of Nathan's neck but he very carefully kept his eyes on his meal.

      "Well, at least he ain't gonna be shooting next time. Boss'll still get that land sooner he'd expected."

      Nathan took another bite of his breakfast, not tasting it. The men had another drink, then left without ever noticing him. Leaving the unfinished meal, Nathan tossed a coin to the barkeep and headed back to the boarding tent. He forced himself to walk slowly, unsure of who might be watching. Inside the single room, he checked for occupants other than the remaining regulators. Only his friends were still there.

      Moving between the cots, he shook Josiah with one hand and Buck with the other. Levelly, he said, "We have to ride. Ezra's in trouble. Act normal and I'll explain later."

      He repeated the procedure on JD.

      Twenty minutes later, unnoticed they rode easily out of town. Only when the ridge was behind them did they kick their horses into a hard gallop.

 

      "Oh no," JD muttered softly.

      "Sweet mother of god," Josiah added.

      The carnage extended out to the edge of the valley, filling the area with the stench of death and the pall of smoke. Where the small tent encampment had been the day before there were still glowing ruins. Dead animals littered the snow-encrusted valley, the ground they lay on churned up in panic. In the midst of what was left of the camp Nathan could make out survivors moving through the destruction.

      "We have to get down there!" JD yelled. He leaned forward to signal his horse and Buck grabbed him.

      "JD! These people have just been through a fight. We charge down there and they're gonna shoot first and ask questions later."

      Nathan urged his horse in front. "We go in slow, with our arms out until we get close enough that someone recognizes us."

      Moving slowly they came across the valley floor. Nathan could see the miners moving closer to the rocks, rifles swinging to cover them. When they were within a few dozen yards, Nathan stood up in his stirrups. "The camp! We're friends of Ezra Standish. We were here..."

      "Ride in," a voice called out.

      Relaxing their stances, the four peacekeepers rode slowly into the ruins. Several fires were going, large enough to provide some warmth to the people huddled around them. The man who had called them came forward, limping heavily on his right leg using the meager support of a tree branch. He nodded as they came closer obviously recognizing them. Even through the smoke Nathan could see the sorrow in the man's expression.

      "He's over here," Rodgers said quietly.

      "He alive?" Nathan demanded, already reaching for his bag.

      "For now."

      They stepped down off their horses. There were three bodies wrapped in ripped tarps at the edge of the camp. Three cots had been moved up next to one of the fires. By two of the canvas cots women were talking quietly to the men in the beds. There was no one by the last cot. It was that fact that made the four men hurry through the survivors.

      Ezra was lying on his side, covered by several blankets. He was so pale and still that for a moment Nathan feared they were too late. Nathan knelt next to him with Josiah crouching down behind the cot. Buck put his arm around JD as they crowded close but remained standing. Nathan was not sure if the move were to comfort JD or support himself if the healer were forced to confirm what he feared.

      As the dark healer's hand touched the white throat, Ezra's eyes flickered open. The normally lively green eyes were dulled with pain and shock, looked almost gray in the bright winter sunlight. Nathan put a hand on Ezra's cheek.

      "Ezra?"

      Ezra smiled very slightly. It worried Nathan that he didn't seem to be in any pain; there was an almost dreamy quality to his smile.

      "Nathan," Ezra breathed.

      Rodgers stepped into their vision and Nathan looked up at him, his hand moving to Ezra's shoulder. "Why is he on his side?"

      "He seemed to breathe better that way."

      "Did you give him something? Morphine or laudanum?"

      The man shook his head. "No, we don't have any of that. I wish to God we did."

      Taking a deep breath, Nathan said, "Okay. Let's see what we got."

      As he reached for the blanket, a woman suddenly appeared on the opposite side of the cot. "Are you a doctor? Please, my husband is hurt. He's bleeding bad. Can you help him?"

      Patiently, Nathan said, "I'll get to everyone, ma'am, soon as I check my friend."

      "Hurry, please, hurry," she pleaded.

      Rodgers took her by the shoulders and eased her away. "The man will get to Jonathan real soon, Lizzy."

      "Buck, JD, grab some of those bandages." Nathan started.

      "Bandages... will be a waste," Ezra's soft voice cut through the crackle of fire and moans of the other wounded.

      "Whose the healer here Ezra, me or you?" Nathan chided, worried even more by the surprisingly calm attitude.

      Ezra said bluntly, "Seven, eight hits."

      Ignoring the gasps from the men around him, Nathan managed to 'tsk' at the gambler. "Exaggerating again, you conman."

      Taking the hint, Josiah lifted the blankets, easing them off the gambler's chest, leaving as much of his back covered against the cold as he could. Someone had stripped Ezra down, tried to wash off the blood. Nathan didn't move, could only stare in dismay and sorrow. He motioned and Josiah shifted the blanket further down, revealing even more wounds. Some were still bleeding, some had rags stuffed into the holes.

      Nathan felt his eyes close tight, felt himself sag a little back. "Oh, God..."

      It was an effort to regain his control, to force his eyes open, to met the fading emerald gaze of his friend. He managed to tighten his hand on Ezra's shoulder and find a very forced smile. "You're a mess."

      Reaching for his bag, reality hit Nathan like a shotgun blast, making him come to his feet and stagger back.  He barely had enough supplies to treat Ezra's wounds. It would leave nothing for the other men. Looking over his shoulder, he could see they were both awake and in pain, seriously hurt but.... With help they probably stood a good chance at surviving.

      Memories choked him. He had stood helplessly in the field hospitals while the doctors had turned away from some wounded to help those they could save. Nathan had seen the pain in those doctors' faces, the blank stares in their eyes. And those patients had been strangers, had been one of hundreds brought in every day. This, this was Ezra, the conman who had not even wanted to ride him, the gambler who was now a brother. A hand touched his shoulder. Looking up into Josiah's kind face, he saw that the big preacher understood what he was facing.

      "I can't help him..." he muttered softly.

      "What?" Buck demanded in a harsh whisper. He had sunk to his knees next to their wounded friend. "Course you can..."

      Nathan glanced at Ezra, saw the pain flickering over the handsome features. Shakily, wiping the tears out of his eyes, he turned to Buck. Calmly, he said, "Buck, I could use everything in this bag and... he's still... he won't..." He couldn't say the words. "I can use what I have and save those two men."

      "And leave Ezra to die?" JD whispered in shock.

      The tears would not be denied. "Ezra... God, JD, he's shot to pieces; seven gunshot wounds, four exit wounds, three bullets still in him. He's lost so much blood. He's in a chill and I got no way of getting him warmed up."

      "Nathan," Buck called his attention in a broken voice. Forcing his eyes back to his two friends, he watched Buck's strong fingers stroke through Ezra's brown hair. "He's asking for you."

      For a long series of heartbeats, Nathan was unable to move, not wanting to face the man he had just condemned to death. But the longing in the emerald eyes was not to be denied. Stepping closer, he sank down beside Ezra. To his surprise, Ezra grabbed his arm with desperation driven strength.

      "Stop... them," Ezra begged.

      Swallowing enough to find his voice, Nathan promised darkly, "We will."

      Ezra gave up his fight to stay awake, slipping into darkness.

      Nathan brought his hand up, held Ezra's hand in place as the slender fingers went limp. "Aw, damn, damn."

      A strong arm was laid across his shoulders. "Go on, Nathan, help those two men. We'll stay with Ezra."

      "No!" Buck snapped, anger coloring his expression. "We do not give up! Now, Nathan, while you're doctoring those two you tell us what we can do to help Ezra. We do not just give up!"

      Nathan looked across at the dark-haired gunslinger. He swallowed, fought down the despair. "Alright. We give it our best." Reaching into this bag he pulled out a single bag of herbs. "Get him warm, that's the first thing. Get all the wounds cleaned and bandaged. Soon as I finish with these two, I'll get the other bullets out."

      As Nathan turned, he heard JD ask hopelessly, "Where can we get him warm, Buck? There ain't nothing left."

      Buck's confident voice carried back to him. "I got an idea on that."

      "He saved us," Bill uttered as Nathan finished wrapping his shoulder.

      Nathan looked down at the man. "Ezra?" He wasn't surprised exactly. Despite their rocky beginning he had come to realize the southerner could be foolishly brave. But Ezra also preferred following to leading. "What did he do?"

      Bill went on to explain the battle. He finished by saying, "Three of us made the rocks on the hillside. I saw him go down. One of the riders..." he took a deep breath. "...one of the riders came up and just shot him again, right in the back. I figured for sure he was dead."

      The admiration in the man's tone bolstered Nathan's spirits a little. "He's a tough little rooster. Seen him take on some a lot bigger."

      "He gonna live?" Bill asked bluntly.

      "I don't know," Nathan answered just as plainly.

      "We're all praying for him."

      Nathan patted the man's uninjured shoulder. "That will help."

 

     Gathering his courage at what he had to face, Nathan stood, looking back to where the others had gathered. In the hour that it had taken to treat the other two men, the others had salvaged part of a tarp and constructed a lean-to at the side of the encampment. A fire blazed in the center, adding its warmth to the frozen area. As he approached he was confused to see Ezra lying on the ground, resting on a section of tarp, and wrapped in several blankets

      "Buck! Why the hell do you have him on the ground? I told you to get him warmed..."

      "Sit!" Josiah ordered.

      Further confused, Nathan did as told. He sat down as close to Ezra as he could, and felt the heat coming off the ground under him. "What?"

      "Coals from the fire," Buck explained. Making a smoothing gesture with his hand, he said, "Dug a hole, filled it up, covered it up and lay him on top of it. Snug as a bug in a rug."

      "He looks a little better, don't he?" JD said hopefully, though he refused to look at Nathan.

      "A little," Nathan said, not believing it. "Has he been awake?"

      "Sort of," JD said sadly. "Didn't seem to notice we were here but he did drink some water."

      Nathan asked levelly, "How we doing on bandages? Boiled water?"

      "We're ready when you are, Nathan," Buck said, no smile in his voice this time. "Folks brought us some sheets and we got 'em cut and boiled down for you."

      Nathan nodded, laying his hand on Ezra's chest. The man's breathing and heartbeat were fast from the blood loss. Though the thick pad of blankets, Nathan could feel the heat that wasn't just from the banked coals. It had been at least seven hours since Ezra had been shot and already he was nursing a high fever. Nathan sighed. His friend probably wouldn't live through getting the lead out of him.

      "We know which ones have no exit wounds," Josiah supplied. "Though it's a guess on whether everything stayed straight after it hit. We did get the bleeding stopped on the others."

      "Okay, let's keep the blanket wherever I ain't working. JD, you see to that. Josiah, Buck, you keep him still."

      Nathan stared down at the pale gambler. He wished he'd said so many things to the man before now. The only thing he could do now was offer a pray to join the other ones being sent up. He sincerely believed God was listening but he also knew too well that God decided which prayers to answer.

      Running his hand through Ezra's brown hair, he said quietly, "You stay with us, Ezra. We'll get through this."

      Nathan looked up as a cup of coffee was shoved into his hand, nodded his thanks to Buck. Behind them, the fires were being built up against the fast approaching night. The survivors had managed to salvage some tents, turning one into a communal sleeping area, another into a cook tent and one for the wounded men. Nathan realized that the group had probably lived that way upon their arrival. They had moved the two wounded men into the tent while the others had moved Ezra to a new bed of banked coals. Buck sat down on an upturned bucket that was serving as a table next to the unconscious gambler.

 

      "You did good, Nathan," Buck commented.

      "Did I?" Nathan questioned lowly. "I got nothing left to fight the fever. Used all the whiskey, nothing to stop any infection. Nothing for the pain, which is enough to kill him on its own." All his doubts came back to the surface. "God, Buck, I can't believe I didn't help him. JD hates me for what I did."

      "No, he don't," Buck assured him. "He don't understand it right now, but he will."

      Nathan looked over at Buck. "I still... I don't even know if that other fellow is gonna make it."

      "Nathan," Buck said softly. "Second guessing ain't gonna do no one no good. If Ezra and that miner have any chance at all it's cause of you."

      As much as he wanted to believe he'd done the right thing, all Nathan could see at that moment was Ezra's too pale face, tinged with fever.

      "He never moved. All that cutting and he never moved."

      "Nathan?" Buck asked quietly. "What else?"

      Finally, the other question that held his heart had to be voiced. "Buck, do you think I gave up on him cause... cause we didn't always get along? If'n it had been one of the rest of ya'll do you..."

      "No," Buck said sharply. "I think you did what you had to do."

      Nathan shook his head, staring into his cup. "I ain't...."

      A large, strong hand gripped his elbow, urged him up. Nathan followed the wordless command blindly, finding himself facing Josiah. "Come on, Nathan, its time you got some rest."

      "Josiah, I need to keep an eye on Ezra."

      "We'll take turns," Buck supplied.

      Seeing the logic in that arrangement, Nathan nodded. "Okay, but you come get me if... well, if anything. And I need to check on the other two before bunking down."

      Josiah nodded, then jerked his head toward Ezra. "Is there anything more we can do?"

      "See if any of the folks have some honey or sugar. Mix it up with some water and try to get as much as you can down him." Nathan shook his head. "And keep praying."

      "Already doing that," Josiah said.

      "Fore ya'll leave, there's something we need to think about soon," Buck said.

      Nathan frowned. "Those hired guns are gonna be back."

      "Yep, probably not tomorrow," Buck observed. "Ezra put a hurtin' on 'em. Day after though. They may bring more men, may not. They weren't expecting Ezra but now they think he's dead."

      "Something else they ain't excepting," Josiah said with a surprisingly feral grin. "Us."

 

      "Mister Larabee."

      Chris turned from where he was checking the supplies he was loading onto his horse. Judge Travis was holding a telegram. "This just came in from the claims office in Monterey. Mister Reagan has filled on that particular piece of land as of yesterday. He claims it's been abandoned by the original claimants."

      The unease in Chris' gut tightened. "Means he's sent men against them already."

      "That would be my summation as well," the judge admitted.

      Chris looked up into the man's hard blue eyes. "I can make the camp in under three days if I leave right now."

       "I think it might be time to wire the governor." Travis considered thoughtfully. "I don't like the idea of riding into a war with only seven men."

      "We done it before," Chris said with a tight smile.

      "Nevertheless," Travis continued. "I think I'll postpone that trail in Eagle Bend, leave tomorrow and proceed to Fort Summer. It will put me a three - four days behind you but when I arrive, it will be with plenty of help."

      Seeing the logic in the idea, Chris nodded. With a quick handshake, he swung up into the saddle, worry tightening his jaw. Five of his men were now in the middle of a shooting war that they had not been expecting with Vin about to ride blindly into it. Chris kicked his horse into a trot, damning Ezra for underplaying the danger and desperately hoping none of them paid for it.

 

      When Vin came into the south end of the valley, he knew something had happened. The encampment that was spread out below him was not a thriving little mining area, it was a group of survivors trying to rebuild. He could see a few men and women moving around, heard the sound of hammering and sawing. Automatically, he searched for some sign of his friends. Josiah's voice boomed out somewhere. Vin nudged his horse, and caught the glimmer of metal to his left.

      He hit the ground as the shot rang out, scooted sideways into the trees and brought up his weapon. A figure was crouched just at the line of trees. Vin moved, bringing his gun into line.

      "Damnit! I told you to lookout - not shoot at people!"

      Vin stopped moving, knowing that voice. "Buck?"

      "Vin? That you, pard?"

      Still on the cold ground, Vin cautiously stuck his head up. "Hell, yes, it's me!"

      Buck and a younger man stepped into the clear. Vin stood up slowly, holstering his mare's leg. The bigger gunslinger came to a stop directly in front of Vin and slapped him heartily on the arm.

      "Damn, I'm glad to see you! What are you doing here?"

      "Dodging lead," Vin said shortly, brushing the dirt off his shoulder.

      The man next to Buck looked a little sheepish. "I'm sorry about that, mister. After what happened and all, when Buck here told me to watch this pass..."

      Buck cut off the rambling apology by slapping the man hard on the back. "Schmidt here's learned his lesson though." To emphasize it, Buck poked his chest at each word. "Make sure you know who you're shooting at."

      "What happened here, Buck? We got Ezra's telegram about the judge coming sooner and us riding along but he didn't say nothing about a war." A chill settled in Vin's chest at the look that came into Buck's eyes at the mention of Ezra. "Ezra?"

      "Come on, Vin," Buck said quietly. "Hans, get on back up there and be more careful this time."

      Vin picked up the reins to his horse and started down the narrow valley. "Buck?"

      A deep sigh answered him before Buck said, "He's been shot up real bad, Vin."

      It took a minute to sink in, a couple of heartbeats to become reality. The sorrow that laced Buck's words nearly stopped Vin in his tracks. It couldn't be as bad as that. Swallowing hard, he asked, "What's Nathan say?"

      Vin caught another strange look go over Buck's face. "He don't hold out much hope."

      "Damn," Vin uttered quietly. He couldn't say anything else, afraid his voice would break.

      Buck led them down the hill toward the lean-to. When they came around the last stand of trees they both staggered to a stop. Under the flimsy protection Vin could see Josiah and JD doing their best to hold down a convulsing Ezra.

      "Oh dear Lord," Buck whispered reverently.

      Nathan was next to JD, holding Ezra's head. Vin could see the wooden spoon they had forced between Ezra's teeth to stop him from swallowing his tongue. For a moment Vin thought he could feel the fever burning through his friend even from feet away. He moved closer, startled not only by the gambler's weakening thrashing but also by the pale features highlighted by the near glow of fever.

      Memories flashed into his mind of another fever victim. Surging forward, he shoved JD aside and grabbed Ezra's legs and whipped the blanket off. He gasped at the multitude of bandages covering the solid body but kept moving.

      "Josiah, get his shoulders," he commanded.

      "Vin?" Nathan questioned. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

      Vin met Nathan's dark worried gaze. "Trust me, Nathan. I know something that will help."

      Holding tight against the tremors ripping through Ezra's body, Vin led the way while Josiah struggled along with him. The others followed quietly behind, not sure what else to do. They reached the shallow river and Vin waded in up to his hips, laid Ezra's legs into the icy water.

      "Hold him up just another minute, Josiah."

      Josiah nodded, seeing what Vin was trying. Vin came up and replaced Josiah, awkwardly holding Ezra as he sat down with the smaller man in his lap. He drew a quick, sharp breath as the chilly water soaked him as high as his chest. The body in his arms continued to jerk for another minute then in a single breath went limp. Vin heard the small gasp of fear from the others, felt the shock go through his heart at the thought that Ezra had died in his arms. Fearfully, he reached up and pressed his fingers to Ezra's throat. A light, fast beat came through the too hot skin.

      "He's alive," Vin said softly.

      "Vin, I don't see where giving both of you pneumonia is gonna help," Nathan pleaded, kneeling on the bank as close as he could.

      "Saw a medicine man do this once to a little girl with scarlet fever." He looked up into the healer's concerned eyes. "Did it on and off for two days. She lived, Nathan."

      Nathan's gaze dropped away, his hand reaching out and touching Ezra's shoulder. "I reckon it's more than I can do for him."

      With that, he stood up and walked away. Vin watched, confused by the guilt and hopelessness in Nathan's voice. The man was not usually the kind to give up, to let death defeat him so easily. His gaze switched to the others.

      Buck only sighed, throwing an arm around JD. "Come on, JD, let's go setup some more coals for Ezra."

      As they headed back to the shelter, Josiah took the position that Nathan had held. "How long's he need to stay in here?"

      Vin frowned. "Seems like that little gal was in only a little bit at a time."

      "Good, or you will end up with pneumonia."

      Shivering already, Vin said, "Soon as I get out Josiah, you better tell me what the hell happened here."

 

      "Stopping 'em ain't gonna help less'n we do something about Reagan," Vin observed quietly.

      He was cold and surprised by that fact. Shaking his head, he told himself he was going to have to spend more time out. He was getting too soft from the town living. A glance at the unconscious gambler reminded him that he was also getting too close to these men. It hurt to see the other man so close to dying.

      Sometimes Vin would note the differences between Chris and Ezra while resting. While Chris could look relaxed, he still gave an air of menace, a feeling of power contained just below the surface. Ezra was never completely still; even when sitting relaxed, he would play with his hat, his cards. It was as if he were afraid staying still would give him too much time to think.

      "Till Chris and the judge get here, I don't know anything else we can do," Josiah observed.

      "Just make sure those bastards don't hurt anyone else," Buck said with a low cold tone that Vin had rarely heard from the easygoing man.

      Rodgers limped slowly over and joined them, squatting down next to the big fire they had going at the edge of the lean-to. "We're almost finished with those ditches," he said tiredly.

      It would be dark soon and the miners had spent most of the day setting up the hidden defenses, many the same style as the seven had used at the Seminole village. There was no time to rig nets but carefully hidden trip lines would accomplish the same thing. Small ditches dug across the valley floor would break up the charge as they broke up the horse's stride. Vin had been worried about the mountain ridge behind them but after spending an hour or so riding the ridge he was convinced that it was too difficult to get over.

      "Um..." Rodgers started. "We may have another problem."

      Vin, Buck and Josiah looked up at him. It was Josiah who chuckled softly. "Ezra's near dead; we're out-numbered and outgunned, and it's gonna snow. What else could go wrong?"

      Rodgers stared down in to the fire. "The men have been talking about leaving."

      Even through the growing dark Vin could see the anger in Buck's eyes. "How can you even think like that! You leave now and you've lost everything. Two of your men and Ezra didn't pay for you to just slink away like some kicked dogs."

      The ladies man came to his feet, getting ready to let loose when Josiah's hand stopped him. Patiently, Josiah asked, "What has you thinking like this?"

      Picking up on Buck's anger, Rodgers came to his feet, nearly tipping over on his bad leg. "Look around! We have a storm moving in and no shelter. We had enough supplies to last us four months and what's left will be gone in a week! It's a week's ride to Higgins Point for more..."

      "What's wrong with Buckhorn?" Vin asked innocently.

      His quiet question brought a deep sigh from everyone around him. "Store won't sell to the miners," Josiah answered.

      With a little shrug, Vin said, "Ain't anyone in town seen me. I'll go get a load."

      "They'll wonder about why you're buying so much," Buck observed.

      "Money talks," Josiah observed.

      "He's right," Rodgers added. "Cletus, the store owner, he was willing to sell but knew he'd get burned out if he did. He might consider that Mister Tanner is buying for us but since no one knows him he might get away with it."

      "I don't like it," JD said as he stepped into the small circle. He and Nathan had come in from their patrol, two of the miners replacing them.

      Nathan walked by, going to Ezra. Silence claimed the group as they watched him kneel beside the wounded man. Vin knew they were very close to losing the enigmatic gambler. The fever was still too high and he had not regained consciousness since the morning before. Through the cold Nathan's sigh was easy to hear.

      Shaking himself away from the drowning feeling of loss, Vin returned to the conversation. "Rodgers, do ya'll have the gold to buy this stuff?"

      Looking slightly offended, Rodgers said, "Hell yeah, got plenty of dust."

      "Alright then," Vin decided. "Get me a list. I'll go at first light."

      "I don't like the idea of you going in alone," Buck said bluntly.

      "Cain't be helped, Bucklin," Vin said. "They seen all ya'll."

 

      Nathan came back and squatted down next to the fire, pouring himself a cup of coffee. He refused to look at the others, finding a strange sort of solace in the fire's eager flames. He waited for the questions, for the words of encouragement from Buck, for the pat on the back from Josiah. The grim look in his eyes and his silence must have answered the questions for them. Looking up, he saw the truth hit the others.

      JD cleared his throat twice before he asked, "Ain't there something we can do?"

      Trying to lose himself in the fire again, Nathan said, "Not less'n you can get water down an unconscious man."

      Rodgers cursed under his breath softly. Nathan glanced over, not surprised at the sorrow he saw in the miner's eyes. Nathan wished the southerner could have been conscious long enough to know how much what he did had meant to these men.

      "Water?" JD asked in slight confusion.

      Josiah put a hand on the young man's shoulder. "Ezra's lost a lot of blood. That and the fever are going to let him get dehydrated faster than normal."

      "And without water..." Buck started.

      "He won't make it more'n another day." Nathan spoke so softly that for a moment he wasn't sure he'd said it aloud.

      He could feel the tears that single sentence started. Silence reigned as the rest of them took a minute to accept this. There was nothing he could say to make the reality less harsh. Once more he wondered at his too easy acceptance of Ezra's impeding death. Why hadn't he at least saved something more to help him?

      "Can't we get a little bit down him at a time?" JD asked desperately.

      "Won't go down," Nathan said. "End up choking on it."

      There was nothing else to say and nothing else that Nathan wanted to hear. Carrying his cup of coffee, he walked toward where four of the miners were working on blowing a rock out of the path and giving them better access to the riverbed. He sat down on a cold stone, trying to let the labor in front of him distract him from the thoughts that keep running circles in his head. Dusk was closing in on the small valley, turning the sky a wild red that was reflected in the blue-white waters of the small river. Vin had predicted a storm in the next few days. Against Nathan's wishes the thought intruded that they would have to chop a grave in the frozen ground.

      "Damn!" Hating himself for thinking that, he tossed his coffee away.

      The men looked over at him in sympathy before returning to the work. Absently Nathan watched one of the men thread a thin rubber tube down through a crevice in the rock. When that was done, he waved behind him and another miner, Bill, Nathan thought walked carefully forward, firmly holding a long glass syringe in his hand. A slight shiver of fear went through Nathan as he realized the slender glass was loaded with nitro. The small drama in front of him now held his attention. Bill put the end of the glass into the rubber tube and very, very slowly pushed down the plunger. The liquid slipped down the twisted tube - and Nathan came to his feet.

      "Rodgers!" He called out.

      The other man joined him from the fire. A wild idea was growing in Nathan's mind. Pointing toward the boulder, he said, "That rubber tube, you got another one?"

      "Yeah, we don't use that many round here...."

      Nathan grabbed the man's arm. "Get me a piece, 'bout thirty inches worth then boil it down good."

      Looking puzzled Rodgers nevertheless sensed the urgency in Nathan's voice and hopped determinedly off. "Be right back."

      It was only as he followed Rodgers' progress that Nathan realized that Josiah had come up behind them. "Nathan?"

      "I've got an idea," Nathan said quickly, heading back toward the fire just the rumble of a small explosion turned the boulder to gravel.

      Ten long minutes went by while Nathan paced the small area, looking frequently toward the cook tent. Everyone had asked him what was going on but he had waved them all off, afraid to voice what he was about to try. Rodgers came back, holding a tube wrapped in a section of clean rag. Nathan took it, waving it to cool it down. He looked from the thin tube to the man dying near the fire, hope flaring in his heart despite everything.

      It was Josiah who ventured a guess at what Nathan was thinking. "You're going to try running that down Ezra's throat?"

      The others looked, startled.

      "If I can get it passed his windpipe, we could trickle water down it without choking him," Nathan explained.

      JD pulled his coat a little tighter as the wind whistled through the trees around them. "I don't understand. Why won't he choke on the tube?"

      "It'll be past where it would cause a problem and as long as he's out he won't gag," Nathan said, excitement and more hope creeping into his voice. "It ougthta work."

      "You gonna need that fire higher to see by," Vin observed levelly, yet Nathan could hear his own hope reflected in Vin's voice.

      JD, finally given something he could do, yelled, "I'll do it!"

      Buck smiled fondly as the sheriff sprinted to the lean-to. Looking down at Nathan, he asked, "You really think this'll work?"

      Looking over his shoulder at Ezra's pale, still form under the mound of blankets, Nathan blinked, reality overtaking the hope. Shaking his head, he admitted, "I don't know. Fever's still scary high."

      "But it gives him a chance," Josiah's deep voice reminded him.

      Running the rubber through his hands, he took out his knife and carefully tried to round the end as much as possible. "Buck, see if you can get some butter or lard, something to ease this down."

      A few minutes later all the men, including Rodgers, were standing, sitting or kneeling near the critically wounded gambler. Nathan reached for Ezra's shoulder, stopped and stared down at him, fear of what he might be trying gripping him like the cold around them.

      "This is crazy," he muttered. "I can't..."

      "Yes, you can," Josiah urged.

      Taking several deep breaths, Nathan gave both himself and Josiah a strong nod. "Ease him up, Vin, let his head tip back to your shoulder."

      Buck and JD lifted Ezra carefully up by each arm, then rested him against Vin's chest. Buck took a firm grip on Ezra's chin to hold his head still.

      "Damn, he's hotter'n a firecracker," Buck whispered.

      Ignoring the comment, Nathan slipped his hand behind Ezra's head, slowly moving him so that his mouth fell open. Putting two fingers into Ezra's mouth to hold down his tongue, Nathan eased the tube down his throat. For a few inches everything went fine, then the movement stopped. Forcing himself to be calm, Nathan shifted Ezra's head back a little more. It didn't help.

      "Buck, move your hand back to mine," Nathan requested softly. "Hold him steady."

      Nathan's hand came around to Ezra's throat, very carefully massaged the pale flesh. "Come on, Ezra, swallow for me." Applying a little more pressure to the tube. There was a little give and Ezra reacted, jerking. Nathan pulled the tube back at little. "Damn."

      "Nathan?" Vin pleaded softly.

      "Hit his windpipe," Nathan said with a sigh. With his thumb on Ezra's Adams apple, Nathan tried again. "Come on, Ezra, we can do this."

      It was another few agonizing long minutes before the others heard, and Nathan felt, Ezra swallow, the tube sliding easily deeper. Nathan gave a whoosh of relief. He looked up at the others and actually smiled a little. "It's in. We're gonna have to sit with him, pump the water, make sure he don't choke if... when he comes to."

      "I'll take it first," Vin volunteered.

      "Not if you're going into town," Josiah cut him off. "You'll need to sleep."

      Vin started to argue, but knew Josiah was making sense. Seeing his friend's distress at not being able to help Nathan said, "You can help me get him settled, Vin. Josiah, I need a good quantity of that honey water. Put it in a pan to warm."

      JD eased Ezra's head back to Vin's shoulder, letting his teeth close loosely over the tube. Nathan noticed the distressed look on his face, the way his hand stroked Ezra's temple. "JD?"

      Shaking his head, the sheriff said, "Looks... painful... wrong."

      "It ain't hurtin' him," Nathan assured him. "But I can see what you mean."

      The others moved quietly away, letting Rodgers lead them to the communal dining tent. Turning towards Vin, Nathan said, "Okay, Vin, let's get him kinda propped up. One of the saddles should do it. I'm going to keep a hold on this tube, all that trouble, don't want it comin' loose now."

      Vin moved away, grabbed his saddle and arranged it behind Ezra. Ezra was cocooned tightly in his blankets so Vin didn't bother adding another. Together they lowered Ezra back to the warm bed, tucking the blankets around him.

      "How long you think we can kid him about getting tucked in?" Vin tried to joke.

      Forcing a smile, Nathan said, "Till he pulls one on us I reckon."

      Nathan felt the wind pick up around him and envied the gambler his warmth. A touch of worry hit the healer. While the rest had been welcomed in one of the tents, the one who had been sitting with Ezra during the night had suffered through two bone-chilling nights. Tonight it would be worse, and worse still by tomorrow. If Vin was correct, there would be snow on the ground by two days end.

      "We're gonna have to move him," Nathan said suddenly.

      Vin looked up at him. "Why?"

      "Ain't so much for him but who's with him," Nathan explained. "It's gonna be too cold out here tonight and tomorrow for 'em."

      Thoughtfully, Vin said, "Mine shaft might be the best place. Have to figure out someway to heat up the ground under him."

      "Soon as the others are done we'll go take a look," Nathan said.

      "You boys want to tell me what the hell is going on first?"

      Nathan and Vin whirled as one, guns out and ready, shots stopped only by the honed reflexes that recognized the voice.

      "Damn, Chris! That's a good why to get killed," Nathan snapped.

      Chris stepped out of the dark, not bothering to apologize, all his attention going to the man on the ground.  His stomach clenched, knowing too well the signs of death nearby. Vin and Nathan holstered their weapons, each seeing the sorrow that passed over Chris' expression.

      "Chris!" Buck yelled as he rejoined them. "Where the hell did you come from?"

      "After Vin left, Judge Travis found out that Reagan had already filed a desertion claim on this spot," Chris explained levelly. "Figured that meant he was ready to try something. I came on ahead while the judge is trying the legal ways, and bringing some army boys with him."

      "How'd you get here so quick?" Vin wondered. "I only left town three days ago."

      "Left the day after," Chris said, feeling every mile of the long ride. "Rode hard."

      "It shows, cowboy," Vin said quietly. "You gonna sit down or fall down."

      Taking the hint Chris slipped to the ground, taking the cup of coffee being offered by Buck but his eyes stayed on Ezra. A few seconds later Josiah and JD joined them. JD looked at him in surprise. Josiah shook his head and smiled. He sat a large pot of water next to the fire. In his other hand he was carrying a honey pot.

      "Glad you could make it, Chris," Josiah said.

      "Thought you might need me," Chris said levelly.

      Buck grinned. "Oh hell, Chris, we got this just about tied up. You could have saved yourself a long ride."

      "How the heck did you get in without anyone seeing you?" JD wondered. Buck swatted him. JD rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah."

      "Judge Travis was going to swing through Fort Summer and get us some reinforcements," Chris supplied.

      "Weather's gonna slow 'em down," Vin supplied. "That side of the mountain, snow's gonna be heavier."

      Silence claimed the group for a minute before Nathan broke it by saying, "All ya'll go get some food."

      "Nathan," Buck said, suddenly serious, "we need to know this is gonna work."

      Not sure what the other men were referring to, Chris remained silent, waiting to see what was going on. Nathan glanced at each of his friends, then took one of the large metal cups that was resting near the fire and filled the glass syringe with the mixture of honey and warm water.

      "Okay, let's see if'n one man can do this," he said.

      Chris' eyes narrowed at the tube sticking obscenely from Ezra's pale lips. Nathan moved in behind the gambler, lifting him gently to rest against his chest. Taking the cup of water, Nathan filled the glass tube, connected it to the rubber and carefully squeezed the life-giving fluid into the injured man. Everyone held their breaths, though none of them knew what they were expecting. Nothing happened. Nathan filled the syringe again and again, slowly and steadily emptying the cup. When he held the cup out to Josiah for a refill, Chris saw the slightest touch of light in the healer's dark eyes.

      "Fever's still high," Vin observed. "We oughta soak him down again."

      "Let's set up that mine for him, then we'll chill him down and move him," Nathan said.

      "This is good, though, right, Nathan?" JD pleaded softly.

      Nathan looked over at Chris and the leader saw his hesitation to say anything encouraging. One look at the limp gambler was enough to show Chris that there was reason behind his reluctance. Finally, Nathan broke the gaze and looked up at JD.

      "If he wakes up tomorrow, it'd be a good sign," Nathan said lowly.

      "Boys," Josiah said, taking the matter in hand. "I suggest we all go get some food, bring some back for Chris here and then move Ezra to his new abode."

      Looking up, Chris nodded his thanks to Josiah. The big preacher had known that he would want to talk to Nathan alone.

      Vin stood, stretching. "Reckon I'd better get to bed soon, got a long, lonely ride tomorrow."

      "Not alone," Chris didn't know where Vin was going but he knew it wasn't going to be solo.

      Vin didn't offer any argument, he merely gave Chris a quick tip of his hat and headed after the others. Chris waited until he was out of hearing before he turned his attention back to the healer.

      "Truth, Nathan," he said levelly.

      The dark eyes met his and Chris saw fear there, and something else. Guilt? He frowned.

      "What I told JD is the truth, Chris. If he comes to, if we get his fever down, if..." Nathan took a breath. "Chris, there's something I didn't tell the others." When Chris looked up, Nathan was filling the syringe again, looking sadly down at Ezra. "He's had this fever near five days now, high enough to cause fits."

      Nathan looked questionably up at Chris and the gunslinger knew what he was saying. He had seen men suffer through fevers like this; had seen the ones that were never the same, the ones that trembled when they walked, babbled instead of talking, stared into a distance only they could see. Chris frowned. The body might survive, but Ezra would be gone.

      "Something else I ain't spoke of, one of the miners said they shot him in the back, after he was down." Nathan's voice carried all of his fury and frustration.

      The idea that a man would shoot another after he was down was nothing new to Chris; the pain over the fact that it was Ezra was surprising. Chris knew what Nathan was experiencing, could feel his own anger rising. He finally allowed himself to put a hand on Ezra's leg. The heat seared him through the blanket.

      Before he could think of anything to say, Nathan said, "Bullets mostly missed anything important. There was one in his lung, caused some damage by bleeding, that's why his breathing is still bad. He near bled to death 'fore we got here, then the cold took hold of him."

      Chris studied the gambler, the man looking sadly small next to Nathan's wide chest. "He's tough enough to keep up with us and take all the shit I give him," Chris said firmly. "He's tough enough to get through this."

 

      "What's wrong with Nathan?" Chris said as he brought his horse up closer to the wagon.

      Vin sighed. He had wondered how long it would be before Chris asked the question that he had asked of the others. "Long story, cowboy."

      "Long ride to tell it in," Chris returned.

      In a quiet level voice, Vin repeated what Josiah and Buck had told him about the decision that fate had forced on Nathan. Chris offered no comment when he finished.

      They rode on for another twenty minutes before Chris said, "Must have been rough on him."

      "He's doubting himself over it," Vin said quietly.

      "Can't says I blame him," Chris admitted.

      Vin looked up at him sharply. "You think he should of done different?"

      "No," Chris said. "I'm just hoping he did the right thing for the right reason."

      It was all Vin could do not to shake his head. They sometimes accused Ezra of not trusting people but Vin knew Chris was actually the worst of them for it. It had been nearly six months before he had let Ezra take solo patrols, figuring him to just ignore any trouble or run off at the first chance. It had been Chris who wondered about Josiah during a recent string of murders in town. Now, even through he agreed that Nathan had done the right thing, like Nathan, he wondered at the reason.

      "Man's a healer," Vin said calmly. "Reckon he thought about it."

      He let it go at that, using the distraction of checking the weather to chance the conversation. "Better move a little faster we wanna be back 'fore the snow hits."

      Two hours later they came out of the general store each carrying the first armload of supplies. Behind them the storekeeper brought out a load and sat it on the boardwalk. As Vin sat the first of the crates in the buckboard, he noticed Chris straighten and look across the street. Keeping his attention on his packing, Vin glanced up, seeing five men standing in front of the single saloon on the opposite side of the street. He turned, walking by Chris to pick up another load.

      "What you thinking, cowboy?" he asked lowly.

      Chris turned with him. "I'm thinking that Ezra needs to be getting home."

      Vin glanced up. There were only five of them. He smiled, about the same odds as the first time he and Chris had fought together. "You thinking on doing something stupid?"

      "Nah." With a returning smile, he said, "Bold, never stupid."

      "Bold, huh?" Vin ventured. "Sounds like something JD would be proud of."

      Chris' blue eyes connected with Vin's. "We should probably finish packing. Might have to make a quick exit."

      Vin chuckled, and turned back to the store.

      When they came out on the next trip the five men were sitting around the wagon. Vin couldn't help but smirk. It looked like Chris would get his wish to cut down their odds without even having to make the first move. Deferring to the older man, Vin merely started laying things in the wagon.

      "Morning, boys," he said as he sat down the case of beans.

      He might as well have been talking to himself as all their opponents seemed to be concentrating on Chris. Finally, the one nearest the horses said, "You buying a lot of stock for just two."

      Vin loaded another box. "Big eaters."

      "Where you taking all this stuff?" another one asked.

      "Why you need to know?" Chris finally broke his silence.

      The first man gave him a wide friendly smile. "Can be dangerous up in those mountains this time of year, just thought we'd give you some warning."

      Vin watched the ice, controlled so far, enter Chris' eyes, watched in amusement as the other man drew back a little. Then Chris smiled and Vin knew things were about to get interesting. Chris shifted, pushing his coat away from his own gun. Vin slipped the hammer loop off his mare's leg but waited.

      "Like you warned those miners?" Chris said lowly. "Like you warned their families? Or that gambler?"

      There was a flicker of reaction, but no overt moves. Chris and the leader of the others remained staring at each other. It was Vin who took a step backward, giving himself more spread with his gun. At the same time he decided to play his favorite card.

      "Now, Larabee," he said calmly. "These fellows might not be the ones who caused all that ruckus."

      The name was all it took. Three of the men immediately moved back, leaving only the two who had spoken, and those two looked shook up. Vin knew Chris would give him hell over his little gambit but fear was a strong equalizer. For the moment, Chris only gave the two men another smile.

      "You tell Reagan that the miners are staying and there are more than just helpless families up there now."

      Still the men didn't move. Finally, Vin broke the silence. "You two gonna stand there starin' and twitchin' or you gonna do something with those guns."

      Hatred joined the nervous looks, and one man's hand crept toward his gun, only to have it stopped by his companion. "Not here, Reynolds."

      There was another minute stand off before Chris simply turned around and walked back into the store, trusting Vin to guard his back. Vin smiled pleasantly at the other men, then backed into store after Chris.

      When they came out ten minutes later the men were gone but three different ones watched them from the saloon. It took another couple of loads to fill the wagon. By the last load, they were alone on the street.

      "Reckon they'll try something on the road?" Vin questioned.

      Chris shook his head. "They ain't the types to think for themselves. Probably have to talk to the bossman first. We won't have any trouble on the way back."

       "You know, I could a stirred up trouble on my own and saved you a ride." Vin chuckled again. "Hell, whole point of me coming was to sidestep this sorta thing."

      Chris gave him a cold smile. "More fun this way."

  True to Chris' prediction, they rode back to the camp unmolested.

      There were cheers from the small crowd as Vin and Chris brought the wagon to a halt in front of the cook tent. Nathan came forward, eagerly looking to the two men climbing down off the cold buckboard.

      Vin gave him a quick smile, reached under hard wood seat and withdrew a small wooden box. "Got a case of whiskey, some more silk thread and this."

      The healer opened the case carefully and grinned at the two bottles nestled in cotton. "Laudanum!"

      The joy in Nathan's eyes made Vin ask the question he'd been thinking of most of the way back. "How's Ezra?"

      The joy vanished like a match blown out. "Fever's down a mite."

      That was all the healer said as he clutched the bottles of painkiller and headed for the tent where the other two wounded men were. Vin sighed as he watched him go. A hand landed on his shoulder. He turned to find Buck smiling sadly at him.

      "Come on, Vin," Buck urged. "Let's get this stuff unloaded."

      "Mister Tanner and Mister Larabee need to get some food first," Missus Rodgers said sharply. "The rest of us will unload the wagon."

      "Ma'am," Vin said cautiously, "that's a fine idea, but I think I'd better be handling this box."

      Feeling Chris' stare, Vin reached under the wagon seat once more and carefully pulled out another box, roughly the same size as the first one. Printed clearly on the side was the word "Explosive."

      "What the hell is that?" Chris demanded as he took an involuntary step back.

      Vin gave him a sly smile. "Just a little evener. Nitro." Buck now joined Chris in easing away. None of the miners moved. "Figure we'll lay some of this out in the clearing, shoot it as they come in."

      "Do you know what you're doing with that stuff?" Buck demanded.

      "Nah," Vin admitted. Nodding toward Rogers, he added, "But they do."

      After a minute Chris returned Vin's wry look. "You could have told me about this."

      "Just didn't want you worrying none," Vin said cheerfully as he handed the box to Schmidt.

Nathan shook his head, not at all surprised by Chris' reactions in town. JD on the other hand looked completely confused that the man had deliberately caused trouble.

      "I thought..." JD trailed off as everyone else chuckled softly.

      "JD," Buck started, "sometimes the best way to kill a snake is just to grab its tail."

      "And sometimes that can get you bit," Vin said with a touch of sarcasm.

      "I take it, Chris, that you had a method in your seeming madness?"

      Josiah wondered.

      Chris calmly swallowed the last of the whiskey, stared at the canvas walls with a smile. "Yeah," he drawled slowly.

      "Plan?" Josiah repeated to Chris.

      "Nothing fancy," Chris replied with a feral smile. "They know there are two of us. If two men shoot at them from the trees near the entrance then they won't be looking for more to shoot when they get close to the camp."

      Buck smiled, nudged JD who was looking blank. "Two of us drive them toward the camp and when they hit that open field - "

      "Vin and his nitro take over," Josiah finished.

      "Don't know 'bout you boys," Vin said, "but I'm hungry enough to eat Ezra's cooking."

      "I think Missus Rodgers can do better than that," Buck picked up, seeing, as Vin had that Nathan wanted them to do something besides worry.

"How is he?" Chris asked as he moved to sit down next to the fire going in the small tunnel.

      Chris glanced around. He had wondered why the entire group didn't take shelter in the solid mountain hole but upon entrance had the question answered. An old collapse had turned the long tunnel into a small fifteen by twenty room. While the place was big enough to allow a few folks protection for a short duration, it would not allow for much in a long run.

      Josiah looked up from the book he was reading aloud. To his left Ezra was partially propped up on several blankets, covered with several more. In the dim firelight Chris could see the slight sheen of sweat on Ezra's too pale face.

      With a sigh, Josiah answered his question. "He's alive and that's more than we had hoped for."

      Sinking down next to Ezra, Chris flinched at the rubber tube. "Looks wrong."

      "JD said the same thing," Josiah told him.

      Silence claimed the small cave, then Chris said thoughtfully, "He's a hard man to know."

      "Did his actions surprise you?" Josiah asked.

      Chris looked up at the ex-preacher, recognizing the tone from childhood churches. His attention turned back to Ezra. A slight smile touched his mouth as he remembered the look of shock and confusion on Ezra's face when Chris had told him never to run out again. At the time Chris figured the shock for him not just shooting the man but later he realized it was that Ezra was bewildered a being granted a second chance. Chris admitted he still didn't understand completely what that must have meant to Ezra or why the dapper southerner stayed with them.

      "No." Chris admitted, "I'm not surprised."

      The ice-blue eyes connected with his and the bigger man smiled. "Maybe Ezra isn't as hard to get to know as you think."

      "Or maybe, he don't know either," Chris chuckled.

      There was a shift of air near the entrance and Chris waited for Vin to join them. The lean tracker sat down next to him, wordlessly handed over a plate of beans and bacon.

      "Figured you might want to stretch your legs a mite, Josiah," Vin explained. "Get some food."

      Coming to his feet, Josiah ducked a little to get his hat on. Tightening the chin leather against the building wind, he nodded toward Ezra. "He'll need more water in half hour or so."

      Chris nodded quietly. "I'll get it."

      Around a mouthful of food, Vin said, "I'll get it. You're gonna get some sleep."

      "Ride was just as long for you," Chris argued.

      "Yeah," Vin agreed. "But I slept, the night fore last. You rode it."

      "Gentlemen," Josiah cut in. "There are plenty of shifts to go around."

      Finding themselves chastised like children stopped both of them. Finally, Chris nodded to both Vin and Josiah. "Okay, I'll get some sleep right after I finish."

      Vin shifted in behind the limp body, pulled Ezra up against his chest. He told himself it was just his imagination that Ezra was lighter. A little voice called him a liar. Many years before he had watched his mother die from a fever, catching it and dying in less than three days. Ezra had been shot six days before, soon there would be nothing...

      Without thinking, Vin tightened his hold on the shorter man. "You just keep holding on there, Ezra," Vin whispered. "I'd miss the times when you and that damn red coat are the only color in town."

      Across the small cave, Chris shifted, rolling over to face Vin. Vin went quiet, not wanting to wake his light-sleeping friend. He reached for the cup of warm honey water. Part of him wondered if trying to keep the gambler alive like this was a good idea. Were they only prolonging his suffering? Vin frowned, refusing to give into that thinking. He would fight to keep Ezra alive as long as Nathan thought there might be a slight chance.

      The cup was barely in Vin's hand when Ezra convulsed hard against him, slamming him back into the wall. Vin gave a startled yelp and Chris was at his side instantly.

      "Damn!" Vin reached to hold the wounded man down. "Thought this was...."

      Over his own panicked voice, Vin heard the gasp of fear and pain, watched as Ezra's hand came up to claw at his throat.

      "He's choking!" Chris snapped. He turned and sprinted into the cold and dark. "Nathan!"

      Ezra's struggles were getting more frantic, burning energy Vin knew he didn't have to waste. "Easy, Ezra. Relax. Nathan'll be here..."

      The thrashing continued, if anything gaining in intensity.

      "Aw, damn," Vin muttered.

      Holding Ezra tight against him with an arm over his chest, Vin reached for the rubber tube. If his friend was going to die in his arms, it wasn't going to be struggling for breath. With a slight prayer that he was doing the right thing, he jerked the tube out. Vin flinched at the dark string of blood that followed it out of Ezra's throat.

      Vin held his breath, held Ezra. Blood edge out of the corner of Ezra's mouth and terror grabbed Vin. "Oh, God, Ezra," he whispered, wiping shakily at the dark liquid. "Hang on, pard. Don't want to have killed ya."

      Nathan sprinted in, dropped down next to them. "Vin?"

      Guilt swamping him, Vin admitted, "I took it out, Nathan. He was hurting, choking. I didn't want him...."

      Ezra reared back in his arms, taking a hard deep breath.

      "Ezra?" Nathan pleaded. "Come on now. I need you to wake up."

      The jade green eyes flashed open so suddenly that Nathan leaned back a little. A wide smile split Vin's face, transferred to Nathan's. "Howdy there, Ezra," Vin said hoarsely. "Glad..."

      He stopped as the smile on Nathan's face faded. The dark healer leaned closer, patted Ezra's cheek. "Ezra? Ezra?"

      There was no response to either the voice or the touch. Vin moved his hand up, stroked through the gambler's dark brown hair. Softly, he pleaded, "Come on, Ezra, answer the man."

      Cold silence. Ezra's gaze stayed on the unfeeling stones above him. The empty look scared Vin as much as the frantic movement had earlier. He turned his own eyes up to Nathan, begging for some reassurance. Nathan sighed, looking down, the movement giving Vin his answer.

      "Nathan?"

      Both men looked up to find Chris standing just inside the entrance. The others were grouped around behind him, worry very obvious by the nervous movements Vin heard more than saw. The wind was picking up, flakes of white ice already being blown around. Nathan ignored Chris' question.

      "Hold him steady, Vin," he ordered.

      Nathan reached for the cup of now cold water that Vin had been about to give Ezra. Seeing what he was trying, Vin pulled Ezra up straighter in his arms. The green eyes never flickered but when Nathan eased the water through Ezra's pale lips the man swallowed, taking the whole cup. The fearful look on Nathan's face turned more thoughtful.

      Chris and the others crowded into the small space. This time it was Josiah who asked the question. "How is he?"

      "I didn't hurt him, did I, Nathan?" Vin asked quietly.

      "No," Nathan said quickly. "No, you did right, Vin. Him thrashing 'round wouldn't'a done him no good."

      "What's wrong, Nathan?" JD spoke from the furthest nook of the little room, pulling the blanket tighter. "Can't he hear us?"

      Vin didn't miss the look that passed between Chris and Nathan, wondered at the flicker of sorrow that went through Chris' eyes. Once more instead of answering, Nathan pulled one of his knives from his boot, lifted Ezra's hand, turned it over and touched the sharp point to Ezra's finger. Ezra's hand jerked but there was no reaction in the dulled green eyes. Nathan sighed.

      "May be he just ain't really awake yet," Buck offered hopefully.

      "Yeah," JD grabbed at the slim chance. "Being sick that long, just gonna take a while."

      Chris knelt next to him. "What do we do, Nathan?"

       "Same as we been doing, getting water down him, maybe some broth now." He paused then added, "Talking to him might do some good."

      "What about the blood?" Vin asked, once more wiping away a small tickle from Ezra's pale lips though he noted that it was slowing.

      "Putting that tube down him probably rubbed his throat. The honey and water will help. Put a drop or two of that whiskey in the next cup."

      "Ain't no need to keep holding him, Vin," Buck said, moving to lower their friend.

      "I got him," Vin said quietly. "Figured he might know I'm here."

      "Ya'll get on back to bed," Nathan said firmly. "Reagan's men'll probably be here just..."

      "Not today," Vin cut him off. When everyone looked at him he offered a smile. "They might be plenty riled at Larabee here but storm'll be here soon."

      "How long and how bad?" Josiah asked.

      "Day of snow and rain," Vin predicted. "Reckon they'll be on us day after."

      "Travis won't be traveling in this either," Chris realized. "Dawn, we'll finish getting ready."

      The others nodded, heading back into the worsening weather, huddling deeper into their coats. Chris stayed a minute, staring at the gambler.

      "Chris?" In one word Vin asked what had gone between the gunslinger and the healer.

      To Vin's surprise Chris rested a hand on Ezra's arm. "Fever. Nathan's worried about it... boiling his brain."

      The words caused Vin to flinch but he wasn't surprised; he had suspected the cause of Ezra's non-reaction. "Might not come around," he surmised.

      "We'll have to convince him then," Chris said firmly.

      Vin smiled at that. "Reckon ordering him'll do it?"

      Chris gamely returned the smile. "Can't hurt to try."

"... the deadly lead buzzed around him like a mass of angry hornets."

      Nathan stepped into the cave, smiling despite everything at the enthusiasm in the youthful voice as JD read to Ezra. The sheriff stopped as he entered, closing his book with a touch of defiance. The others, Nathan included, kidded JD constantly about his reading of the dime novels. One day Nathan swore he was going to buy the kid a couple of real books.

      Taking off his slicker, Nathan squatted down next to his patient. Stripping off his gloves, he put his hand to Ezra's cheek.

      "Fever's down," Nathan commented. "That's good."

      "Yeah," JD agreed. With a shiver, he said, "Guess it's my turn to get out yonder and freeze my ass."

      Nathan nodded distractedly, still staring at Ezra. JD stood and started slipping into his slicker. As he pulled on the fur-lined gloves, he asked quietly, "Is he gonna get well, Nathan?"

      "I don't know, JD," Nathan admitted.

      "What if...." JD nodded toward the too still gambler. "What if he stays this way?"

      Nathan looked up at JD, knowing he was about to kill a little more of the fading innocence in those dark brown eyes. "He cain't live long like this JD, too much to go wrong, body starts to whither away."

      Despite JD's flinch at that image, Nathan knew the boy had no idea of how bad it would be for their friend to die by very slow degrees. He looked at Ezra again, at the pale face and slightly rising chest. JD had not lived through the war, had not watched bodies rot alive despite all the washing and moving all the bearers could do. Tears at those memories filled Nathan's eyes and he snapped them shut.

      A hand touched his shoulder. He straightened, wiping his sleeve across his eyes, sniffling. "Damn, weather must -"

      "Nathan," JD said softly, "there's nothing wrong with being sad over a friend being hurt."

      Looking up over his shoulder, Nathan was struck by the wisdom in the same eyes that held so much innocence. "Thanks, JD."

      As the younger man stepped toward the door, Nathan eased the layer of blankets off Ezra's chest, intending the check the wounds. The moved covering revealed a deck of cards under the gambler's limp right hand. There was an embarrassed shuffle behind him and Nathan turned to find JD looking a little sheepish.

      Shrugging, he said, "I thought it might help, you know, feeling something familiar in his hand."

      Nathan looked back at the pasteboard cards, ran his finger along the edge of Ezra's cards. "Cain't hurt," he said softly.

      JD remained where he was, took a deep breath and looked up at Nathan. "I'm sorry about getting mad, Nathan. I.... I don't think I would want to have made that decision."

      "Thanks, JD," Nathan said through the wave of guilt that once more hit him.

      With a quick nod, JD flipped the blanket they had tacked over the entrance up and started into the dim daylight -

      A shot echoed through the small valley, followed immediately by screams of fear. Nathan and JD both drew, going to the entrance. JD carefully tugged the iced blanket open a fraction just as a second shot rang out. Both the lawmen jumped back even though there was no sign of a bullet coming near their safety hole.

      Buck's voice now reached them. "Get down! Get down!"

      Nathan peered carefully out. Buck was crouched behind a boulder a couple of dozen feet from them, two of the miner's wives pushed down in front of him. Several of the miners were tucked behind various protections. Near the cook tent, he could see Vin and Josiah, guns out, scanning the hillside to the south of the camp. A flash of black showed Chris moving toward the threat on the snowy hill. For the moment, at least, everyone seemed to be all right. Another shot exploded in the quiet, was followed by the smack of a bullet next to Vin's leg. The gunman was on top of the rise, almost directly above the small mine entrance.

      "JD," Nathan said quietly. "I don't think the bastard can see us. Maybe if we hug along that little bank to the south."

      Nervousness entered JD's eyes but he nodded. "On the next shot," he said firmly. Then he added, "What about Ezra?"

      Looking back over his shoulder, Nathan said sharply, "Sooner we kill that damn sniper, sooner I can take care of him."

      JD's eyes widened at his tone but he nodded his understanding of it and Nathan's orders. They watched as another volley forced Chris to roll behind a boulder, just at the base of the hill. The sheriff led the way out with Nathan following close behind. They jogged along the narrow trace between the base of the rise and the open space near the river. When they had gone a hundred feet down, Nathan tapped JD's arm, bringing him to a stop.

      A shot rang out behind them, followed by a litany of curses from Buck. Nathan didn't turn, only offering a short prayer that his friend's words came from anger and not injury. JD looked briefly over Nathan's shoulder before turning all his attention to the task before them.

      "Too high," JD complained when he realized he couldn't see over the rocks.

      Nathan propped back against the icy rock, pushed one knee out at an angle. JD gave him a quick nod. "Be careful," he warned as JD stepped on his thigh, using it to ease over the edge.

      "Damn, JD," Nathan grunted. "You're heavier than you look."

      Dropping back down just as another volley of shots rang out, JD said, "He's almost directly above us, about forty feet up." Looking meaningfully at Nathan, he said, "He's in behind some rocks, can't get a clear shot from here. And there's not a lot of cover between here and there."

      Glancing around, Nathan realized that the firing from the men in the valley had decreased, obviously they were in a standoff. Gesturing with his gun, he motioned JD further down the rise. They continued another twenty yards down the narrow trail, to a small gap that would allow them access to the top. The firing above them stopped and a new sense of urgency touched Nathan. He was worried that the sniper would make a break for it, trying to get back and report that more than two men were protecting the camp.

      Nathan motioned to his leg again. JD popped up, came back down. "I can see him for here but I'm not sure about the shot."

      The admission that he was not willing to take the shot was a sign of how much JD had grown. Nathan bit his lip, looking down the trail, knowing that time was running out, someone would be hit soon or the man would know it was hopeless and make a break for it.

      "How far to the nearest rocks?" Nathan asked.

      Looking confused, JD answered, "About fifty.... You ain't thinking of making -"

      "I'm thinking on drawing him 'round so's you can shoot him," Nathan snapped.

      "No!" JD said. "Besides getting yourself killed, you're the only one that can help Ezra. Anyone goes over this rise, it's me."

      "You're the better shot," Nathan explained with more patience than he felt.

      "And you're the doctor!"

      Deciding he'd had enough of the argument, Nathan drew his gun, shouldered JD aside and scrambled over the rise. He heard JD curse behind him then sound vanished as he jumped over a log, sprinting toward the rocks. A bullet sent a shower of dead leaves and slush up his legs; another scored a pine as he sprinted by. The next one would have him. A single shot echoed through the hills just as Nathan dove for cover into an ancient pile of tumbled boulders. An almost eerie stillness settled over the area.

      It lasted for a few seconds before Nathan cautiously raised his head. A few feet away he could see the sniper's body thrown back among the trees. Glancing back the way he had come he saw JD give him a nervous smile. Still being careful, Nathan made his way to the body, kicked the rifle away and knelt. Two bullet holes decorated the man's dark gray shirt. Frowning, Nathan glanced around, trying to see where the second bullet had come from. A few dozen yards away Schmidt stood up, staring at the scene with wide eyes.

      Below Nathan could see people hesitantly coming out of hiding, lead by Chris and Vin. He waved to confirm the kill, then considered starting for the young miner, since he looked to be on his way into shock. But Rodgers ran up from the trees, took the rifle from the man's slack grip and led him away. Nathan hesitated, still ready to start after the man but Vin and Chris came up at the moment. Vin knelt beside the dead man. Nathan let thought of Schmidt go, though he would check with Rodgers later.

      "I thought you said no one would get up that ridge?!" Chris snapped at the lean tracker, startling Nathan back to the scene.

      "Didn't think they could!" Vin returned with just as much heat.

      "Nathan," Chris ordered, "go check and see if there's anyone down below."

      Not wanting to anger his leader anymore than he already was, Nathan nevertheless shook his head. "Send JD, I need to get back to Ezra."

      "I got it," JD yelled, already heading for the top of the rise.

      "Stay down!" Chris yelled.

      Just before Nathan could start down the rise, Vin stood up, holding a piece of paper. Without a word, he handed it to Chris. The anger had faded slightly from Chris' expression but he managed to give Vin a glare before taking the note. Nathan was almost amused by the way Vin ignored Chris' anger.

      Chris gave a low whistle. "Five hundred dollars to the man who kills the two outsiders currently holed up with the miners," he read.

      "Damn, cowboy," Vin muttered. "We keep this up and you'll worth much as me pretty soon."

      "That means a lot to me, Vin," Chris said sarcastically.

      "Least he isn't gonna get back to tell Reagan how many of us there are," Vin remarked.

      "Don't be too sure," JD remarked suddenly as he came back. He held out a rope, a pulley and some odd looking metal loops. Chris took the items. "This is how he got over the rise. But there was a rider hauling a horse behind him, headed off into the distance."

      "With him being below," Vin said, "he may not know anything 'cept that his man got killed."

      Nathan watched Chris stare thoughtfully at the rough hemp in his hands. "We'd better ready for more than we figured. Have everyone not on guard meet me in the cook tent."

      As the others moved through the still shaken miners, Nathan and Chris walked to the cave. Chris went to the fire to grab the warm coffeepot, while Nathan returned to his patient. Ezra's eyes were closed again and Nathan automatically knelt and wrapped his fingers around Ezra's narrow wrist. Nathan stared at his friend's pale face without really seeing him.

      "I'm sorry, Ezra," Nathan whispered. "I ain't done nothing..."

      "You've kept him alive."

      Nathan jumped at Chris' voice, but refused to look back over at the leader he would follow anywhere. "Buck figured out how to warm him; Vin got the fever down. And if he don't get no better? How we gonna stand watching him die like... like they did in the war, wasting to nothing, sores going bad."

      There was the sound of leather and cloth as Chris came over, sat down next to them, staring into his coffee. "I won't let that happen."

      It was said with such conviction, such finality that Nathan looked over at Chris. The green eyes were filled with contradiction - hard with determination, soft with compassion. Nathan swallowed; knowing instantly what Chris was talking about. He was suddenly filled with just as much contradiction. Part of him rebelled at the idea of treating a human being like a lame horse to simply be put out of misery. Yet, another part of him couldn't help but feel relief over the exact same reason.

      "Don't give up on him yet, Nathan," Chris said solemnly. "He made it through the cold and the fever. He's tough enough to make it out of the darkness too."

      Nathan shook his head. "If I had saved something to help the fever..."

      "Stop it!" Chris' voice was low, yet the words cut over the wind driving against the blanketed entrance.

      Jumping a little at the tone, Nathan once more met the shadowed eyes of his leader.

      "Quit feeling sorry for yourself over what you had to do," Chris ordered. "Put all that worry to figuring out what else we can do to help Ezra."

      The words were level, almost conversational, but there was impatient steel under them. Nathan blinked, swallowed. Chris' gaze held him in place for a long minute, forcing him to look away. He heard the other man move back into the cold wind and rain.

      The guilt Nathan had been living with for a week took a different turn, became worse. Despite getting water down Ezra, despite the lowering fever, despite the gambler's brave struggle to live - Nathan had indeed been waiting for him to die. And the truly ironic point was that the other men were holding on to hope because Nathan was there, because he had kept Ezra alive this long.

      He looked toward Ezra, and for the first time, really wondered at the man's survival, at the strength it must have taken to hold on through those first long, agonizing hours. Had Ezra held on knowing they would come back? Had he fought so hard just to see his friends once more or in the hope of help? Turning, Nathan laid several more logs onto the fire, filling the rocky enclave with light and heat.

      Ezra was still cold due to the blood loss and the chill that had settled on him. Despite the warm ground and warm blankets, Nathan was worried about his lungs. Forcing his worry aside, Nathan thought of all the cures he'd seen for things like pneumonia, from the herb healers on the plantation to the doctors he'd watched in the field hospitals during the war. Sparks flew up from the logs, snapping in the cold air, causing the shadows to shift along Ezra's pale face. Memories of another treatment came to mind, one at the Seminole reservation, one that had taken place in a steam-filled sweatlodge.

      "Okay then," Nathan said firmly. "Me and you gonna get through this, Ezra. Reckon if we can take on a army every few months, this ain't gonna be nothing to worry about. Hell, just us being friends is something of a miracle."

      He stepped out to find Josiah.

      Vin took a deep breath, bracing himself for entering the small cave. He wasn't sure if he could take seeing Ezra much longer. He also wasn't sure when the gambler had become such a friend. Vin's relationship with Chris had been defined and bonded in a single shared glance. With the others, it had been a slow thing, most especially with the solitary southerner. Now, though, they were more than friends and a shiver of dread and sorrow went through Vin every time he took his turn holding and talking to the unconscious man.

      Flipping back the blanket covering, he was surprised at the wave of heat that surged out into the cold. It was not so amazing once he stepped inside. There were six miners huddled around the fire with Chris and Buck. That wasn't what attracted Vin's attention though. In the far back corner, there was a blanket tented over a combination rocks and broken tent poles. Josiah was sitting next to the odd enclosure. Ezra's legs extended out of the gray blanket.

      Chris nodded acknowledgment as Vin walked passed the huddled group to Josiah and Ezra. "What's Nathan come up with now?"

      Josiah gave a nod toward the makeshift tent. "Steam, good for the lungs and warm."

      To illustrate, Josiah lifted the blanket, showed him a few rocks sitting near the edge. Josiah turned a small can over them, closed the covering as the steam rose. Vin nodded, he'd once been on the receiving end of having to hold his head over a steaming kettle to get over what his aunt had said was pleurisy. All he remembered was breathing easier.

      "Better tell me what to do," Vin said.

      "Been enough," Nathan's voice cut in. Vin looked up, waited for him to continue. "We'll stop for now. Want you to hold him up though, keep talking to him, try to wake him."

      Vin and Josiah exchanged surprised looks. "Thought you said he'd come around -"

      "This is Ezra, we're talking 'bout," Nathan said with a forced smile. "Reckon we're gonna have to badger his sorry ass into waking up."

      Despite the fake cheerfulness, it still brought a smile from Vin and a nod of agreement from Josiah.

      "Boy does like to sleep," Vin drawled.

      They removed the light blanket, laying it aside for later. Nathan leaned in and checked Ezra's breathing. Vin saw the slightest bit of hope come into the healer's dark eyes. After Nathan moved away, Josiah helped Vin get comfortable with Ezra in his arms. Before Josiah headed off though, he slipped a few cards into Ezra's pale hand. Vin looked questioningly up at Josiah.

      "It was JD's idea," Josiah admitted with a shrug. "Seemed to think it might help."

      Vin didn't comment, merely moving to settle the limp body into his arms. Across the five feet of warm space, Chris was outlining the plan for the next day. As Vin maneuvered himself behind Ezra, he heard Rodgers start to argue.

      "We can shoot," Rodgers insisted.

      Chris just glanced up from under his hat. "Didn't say you couldn't, just need to figure out from where."

      The miner waited, obviously expecting to be dismissed from the real fight. Vin was almost expecting the same thing. While Chris had let the Seminoles help defend their village, lately, with the town, he had become more obsessive about it being their job and no one else's. Turning away from the discussion for a minute, Vin settled back against the saddle they were using as a rest. He pulled Ezra up against his chest, legs on either side of Ezra's and arms around his chest.

      "How you doing there, Ezra?" Vin said quietly. "Reckon it's my turn to try talking you awake. Not sure why they wanted me to do this since I ain't got any good stories to tell you."

      "I want you and your men in the rocks lining the river," Chris said.

       Vin quit talking to his patient for a minute, letting his hand move over Ezra's arm, rubbing, trying to let him know he was there. His attention turned to the men at the fire. Rodgers started to protest Chris' assignment of their position, only to be cut off by Chris' raised hand.

      "We can't get all of them before they'll make the rocks," Chris explained patiently.  "We need them to be stopped by your fire long enough for us to pick off the rest of them."

      The logic of the situation stopped Rodgers' protest. Chris asked, "How many charges of nitro can you make?"

      Rodgers ran his hand through his thinning brown hair. "Depends on how big you want the explosions."

      Chris looked over at Vin.

      Vin shrugged. "Bunch of small ones will hurt 'em more, scatter them better." He pulled the blanket a little tighter around him and Ezra. "Got one problem though. I'm gonna need some kind of markers."

      "Crossed sticks?" Buck asked, frowning.

      "Lots of sticks on that field," Vin observed.

      "We need something easy for Vin to see," Josiah said almost to himself, "but small enough that a man on horseback wouldn't notice."

      There was a moment of silence as everyone considered the problem.

      Ezra's hand shifted out from under Vin's and the tracker moved to catch it. Vin wrapped his hand around both narrow wrists, holding them at Ezra's waist. The slightest tug of muscle moved under his other hand - and a jolt of shock went through Vin.

      "Ezra?" Vin asked faintly, afraid to believe what was happening.

      This time something hard brushed against his hand. Vin shifted to look down at Ezra - down into the jade green eyes of his friend. Ezra blinked hazily up at him before his eyes drifted shut again.

      A grin broke out across Vin's face at the same time as he shouted, "Nathan!"

      "Vin?" Chris asked from across the fire, having noticed his movements.

      "He was awake!" Vin explained happily. "And it was Ezra looking back at me."

      He could see the doubt pass through Chris' expression. Ezra had slumped back into darkness, giving no sign that he had ever awakened. Vin just continued to smile.

      "Vin," Buck ventured carefully. "Are you...."

      As Nathan came through the entrance, the tracker flipped the blanket off and held up his hand. Several cards rested just barely between his fingers.

      "Markers," Vin explained happily. "Ezra knew what we needed."

      Nathan stared at the simple, colored pasteboard. He sat down next to Vin, glancing up at the lean Texan then back down to the pale Southerner in his arms. Ezra was as still and unresponsive has he had been for seven days now.  Behind him Chris, Buck and Josiah leaned in, waiting to see what his opinion was.

      "Nathan," Vin said with complete conviction. "He woke up. He heard what we were saying. He understood it. He looked at me and he tried to give me the cards."

      There was no denying the joy in Vin's blue eyes. Very slowly, Nathan felt a similar smile drift across his lips. "Damn," was all he could think to say.

      "Yes!" Buck yelled, startling everyone as the shout bounced off the walls. "I gotta tell JD."

      "Buck!" Nathan tried to stop him but the rascal was already gone.

      Chris was more cautious. "What do you think, Nathan?"

      There were times when he hated that question. For now all he could do was lean closer, lay a hand to the side of Ezra's neck. Nathan tilted his head a little. The flesh under his hand was warm but not hot, Ezra's chest rising steadily and deeply. Nothing seemed to have changed since he had last checked his friend only an hour before.... Yet....

      Nathan was not sure how he knew, but something was different. He tried to offer an explanation, tried to say that the change didn't mean Ezra was out of danger. All those thoughts caught in his throat. Blinking hard, he forced two simple words out of his tight throat. "He's sleeping."

      From behind him he heard what he thought was almost of sob of relief from Josiah and a couple of hard swallows from their hard-as-nails leader. He looked over his shoulder at the other two, but they refused to meet his gaze, staring at the rocky ground instead. Nathan felt the tears threatening his own composure and understood their embarrassment. Vin only continued to smile, unconcerned with the tears filling his eyes.

Dawn came slowly, fighting its way through the low hanging clouds, through the cold and mist. When the light did come, Nathan blinked at it in weary surprise. He had relieved Chris from tending Ezra at nearly two in the morning, now light was slipping over the chilly countryside - and there had been no more movement from the man held safe in his arms. New doubt had started creeping into Nathan's thoughts as the night had moved along. He would have to relinquish his position soon, letting Mrs. Rodgers take over as the miners and lawmen prepared to take on Reagan's men.

      Reaching across, he picked up the cup of honey water he had been easing down Ezra all night. "Wish you'd wake up here, Ezra," Nathan said softly, shifting Ezra up into his arms.

      He brought the cup up, and Ezra's head rolled toward it. Nathan nearly dropped the cup. Tilting Ezra's face toward him, he asked, "Ezra?"

      It was several minutes and a dozen attempts before the green eyes flickered open. Ezra stared up at him. As the night before, Nathan couldn't find his voice. For a week, he had thought never to see those green eyes filled with awareness. Now that Ezra was awake, he didn't know what to do.

      "Ezra?" He questioned, still unsure of what the gambler understood.

      Ezra blinked hazily. After a minute, Nathan felt the hand under his shift slightly. Holding it down, Nathan said quietly, "Do you understand me, Ezra?"

      There was another few seconds before Ezra nodded almost imperceptibly. Nathan barely controlled his joy at the soft nod. "Drink this."

      The wounded man took the whole cup of water and part of another, which pleased Nathan. A touch of worry crept through him at Ezra's silence. What if the fever had caused something unexpected? Ezra could hear but could he talk?

      "Ezra," Nathan said lightly, "I never thought I'd say this, but can you please say something."

      He was rewarded with a grimace and the soft, slurred word, "'urts."

      "You were shot up pretty good." Nathan reached for the bottle of laudanum he had sat nearby. "Vin got ya some laud..."

      With a quiet sigh, Ezra dozed off again. Nathan gave a small sigh himself. It would be better if Ezra could sleep through the pain without the opiate. He pulled the man close, hugging him very gently, fighting off the tears, wondering vaguely at when the gambler had become so important to all of them. How had he come to care for the southerner that wouldn't ride with him at first?

      "Nathan?" Josiah asked quietly from the door.

      Taking a deep breath to get his composure back, Nathan eased Ezra back to the raised blankets. He looked up into concern in Josiah's expression. Nathan wasn't sure whom it was for, so he smiled in answer. That seemed to relieve his friend.

      "Vin just signaled from the ridge," Josiah said. "Looks like Chris was right, they brought more men this time."

      Misses Rodgers slipped through the gap between Josiah and the rock wall, came over and sat down next to Nathan.

      "How many more?" Nathan said.

      Josiah gave him a wide smile. "Well, it ain't quite as bad as the Seminole fight."

      "Aw, hell," Nathan muttered quietly before grabbing his guns.

      He turned back to Misses Rodgers. "Ma'am, keep him quiet and covered, and make sure he gets plenty of water if he wakes."

      The older woman was pale at the thought of the coming fight but nodded firmly, eyes strong with determination. To Nathan's surprise, she pulled an old single shot pistol from her apron. "No one hurts him again," she promised. "God's blessing on you."

      Nathan returned her firm nod and followed Josiah in to the cold.

Chris watched the riders come into the valley head, stopping at just the edge of the meadow. There were two lines of a dozen riders each. A quick glance across the open space showed him the small red card markers, carefully banked so that only the front was visible to Vin. A check of everyone's position proved to Chris that they were as ready as they were going to be. Josiah and Nathan were settling into a nook, carefully hidden down at creek level; JD was fifty yards down creek from them; Buck was on the small rise on the opposite side of the meadow, acting as the second man the riders would be expecting. But their surprise, Vin, was guarding them from the heights behind the river, waiting for his best chance to open up with the explosives. In among the rock lined river, were the miners, holding old weapons, scared but determined.

      The tension built for long half-dozen minutes, then a single rider came forward. Chris cursed, tossing away the cheroot held tight between his teeth. If the rider came too far forward he might see or even trip one of the explosives. Sprinting, he vaulted bareback onto one of the miner's horses, ignoring Buck's yell of warning. Whirling around, he galloped toward the rider.

      As he came closer he recognized the man from town, the one who had started the confrontation. He jerked the heavy horse to a halt, stared hard at the other rider.

      "What do you want?" He demanded.

      The man gave him a cold smile. "Wanted to see if it was true you were up here. Couldn't see a reason for Chris Larabee to be protecting a bunch of tinpans."

      "Maybe I don't need a reason expect for not liking you," Chris quipped with a hard smile of his own.

      The hired gun ignored the remark, though his smile faded. "Boss says I'm to be polite, ask if you and your friend want to leave while you can."

      "Well, now, that's real nice of your boss," Chris said, watching the man's hope for an easy fight increase. "But I don't like him any more than I like you and I ain't even met him. This valley ain't his and it ain't gonna be his."

      "Mister Reagan says he's willing to pay you for your trouble," the man sneered, obviously hating the idea of paying Chris off.

      "I'm done talking," Chris said flatly.

      They continued to glare at each other then the man broke off, jerking his horse around and sprinting back toward the line. Chris remained, watching carefully. Knowing his back was well guarded; he spun the old horse and trotted calmly back to his line. He dismounted, once more checking the men.

      They waited. Chris' thoughts flickered to Ezra, to how much the situation reminded him of the Seminole village. When he had first seen the injured gambler, he had been surprised at the sense of loss that had swept like a cold wind through him. It had taken a lot for him to admit that he would miss Ezra if he didn't make it though this.

      In eerie response to Chris' unspoken thoughts, Rodgers pointed to the one who had come forward. "That's the one." When Chris glanced sideways at him, he said, "He's the one that shot your friend in the back."

      Chris' growl of hatred was covered by the crack of a rifle, the single sound ending any thought but fighting.

+++++ Vin nearly smiled as the riders came across the open field. Ezra sometimes kidded him about liking simple things but sometimes simple was the best answer - like now. He waited; knowing it would be best for Buck and Chris to open first. A second later the heavy boom of rifles filled the air as his two friends fired. The first riders passed the hidden explosives.

      Bringing the rifle to his cheek, he took careful aim at the barely visible card. "For Ezra, you bastards." He squeezed the trigger.

      Two horses screamed in fear and pain, falling, one rider dead before he hit the ground, the other crawling a few feet through the slush before laying still. Vin barely noted this before targeting another card. Two more of the attackers went down, blood adding splashes of red to the gray and white snow. The first of the riders reached the rocks. "Now!" Chris yelled, barely understandable over the dim of gunfire.

  The miners opened fire with everything they had from old single shot revolvers to new Winchesters. The riders kept coming, obviously thinking they were through the worst of it, still charging confidently forward. Vin now shifted to the charges closer to the river, igniting three in rapid succession. At the same time the remainder of the seven opened up. The explosions threw dirt, snow and rocks into the air, slammed riders and horses to the ground. The shots that took out more of their number were lost in the detonation of the nitro.  


    The confidence and forward movement vanished. The riders were now facing a solid wall of gunfire, many of their number already dead or wounded. Vin could see their courage lag. Two riders turned, starting back for the trail, only to have their horses fall under another explosion he set off. The riders staggered to their feet, looking for help as their mounts limped off. Vin turned his attention to the ones still shooting, letting the wounded get away as best they could.

    The leader who had challenged Chris was in front now, gun raised in between taking shots at the men carefully hidden in the rocks. "Get your asses back here!" he screamed.

      Vin aimed. A single shot blew the man's gun out of his hand. There was a string of hot curses as he turned and galloped after his retreating men. Fighting away a smile, Vin set off two more blasts just as the men passed them, urging them on their way. The group that had started with two dozen now retreated leaving three dead behind and carrying six wounded. A few half-hearted shots chased them into the heavy trees on the other side of the clearing.

      There was a silence, then cheers and yells started echoing through the valley as the miners stood up to celebrate their victory. Vin started to stand, and stopped.

      "Stay down! Stay down!" Chris yelled over the noise.

      Shots rang out of the trees that lined the clearing. There was a strangled cry from someone below him. Vin brought his rifle up. "They're coming again!"

      The attackers were not stupid. This time they wove their way on foot through the trees, ducking and firing. Across the open meadow Vin watched Buck move up higher. Opposite the big ladies' man, Vin could see Chris moving lower, which puzzled him. The miners were firing again, taking shots they had no hope of hitting. The lawmen were patient, guns ready but silent, waiting for the enemy to get closer. Vin shouldered his rifle again - and started the second round by taking down a man moving toward Josiah's position.

      In the rocks, JD popped up, twin guns blazing. Buck's rifle signaled his attack. Crouched, running low, Josiah and Nathan moved away from the middle, toward the side of the rocks, directly in the path of the men trying to come around them. Both of them took shots, were rewarded with yells of pain. Vin's attention turned to the shadowy figures in the trees. During the first attack he had offered a rough form of mercy; hitting the nitro after they rode by, shooting the gun from their leader's hand. This time there was no leniency. He aimed for the hat showing around a tree and watched the man die. The next target was slightly off, sending the man screaming in pain to the forest floor. The third one went immediately, messily silent.

      Before he could sight on a fourth, three of the men, still on horseback, charged out of the trees close to the river, heading toward the poorly armed, badly shaken miners. Vin swung the rifle up - and Chris materialized out of the trees directly in front of the three men. The black-clad gunman stood there arm straight out, his gun an extension of his hand. Bullets scattered snow and leaves at his feet. Larabee never wavered.

      "Goddamn, Larabee," Vin muttered as he shot one of the men. Before he could even start to aim again the other two were down, taken out by Chris' deadly determination. "Think you're god damn made of steel," Vin continued to complain as he moved to a better location.

      Below him a man fell to JD's guns. One went down in front of Rodgers, another to Buck.

      And the rest turned for the trail, retreating, picking up their wounded, ignoring their dead. They disappeared into the dark trees as the snow and mud muffled the horses hoof beats. Within minutes they were gone. Vin sighed at the stupidity of the situation. A third of the attackers lay dead in the snow, another third had been riding double or slumped over in their saddles. Dead horses littered the valley. Bill and JD were already moving after the horses limped off toward the woods.

      "Vin! Buck!" Chris yelled. "Josiah!"

      Vin's rifle came up immediately, scanning for the attack. Below him, Chris was motioned toward the camp. Not sure what was going on, Vin scrambled down the steep slope, sending small avalanches of snow in front of him.

      "Saddle up," Chris ordered.

      Rodgers turned away from watching the trail the riders had disappeared down. "What are you doing? Rodgers asked.

      "I got the same question their, pard," Vin said as he came to stand next to Chris. He could see the confusion in the others' expressions as well.

      "They're a wounded animal now, Vin," Chris said tightly. "We follow them and finish this."

      "Whoa there, Chris," Buck cut in. "I'd like to kill those bastards as much as you but riding after them... Travis is bring the army..."

      "We made this mistake at the Seminole camp," Chris said over his shoulder as he stalked toward his horse. "I ain't making it again."

      Vin came to a stop, watched Chris grab his saddle. Buck had halted a few feet further on, obviously unsure of what to do. They both had good points, Vin realized. Judge Travis might be on his way with troops but there was no way to tell when they would get there. The trick with the nitro had worked this time, next time the men would be ready. With a quick nod to himself, he took a step up next to Buck.

      The dark blue eyes connected with his - and they moved to follow Chris.

      Nathan watched them mount, torn between wanting to go with them and knowing he was needed here. One of the miners was grazed while another sported a knee hit by splintered rock from a too-close ricochet. And there was still Ezra....

      Chris reined in his black mare. "Be careful. There's only a few of you to keep an eye on things here. Make sure you guard that ridge."

      "We'll be careful," Nathan confirmed. "Gonna have one of the miners pick up what's left of Vin's secret weapon, might come in handy if'n someone does come over that ridge."

      The black clad gunslinger smiled grimly, approving of Nathan's thinking. "We'll be back."

      Rodgers stepped forward, old gun in hand. "They'll head for Reagan's place. It's the only fork off the trail to Buckhorn."

      "Be careful," JD said from behind Nathan.

      Buck grinned at him. "Always am, kid."

      Vin merely tipped his hat to the men on the ground while Josiah gave a wide, toothy grin, obviously more than ready to finish it. They took off after Chris. As they rode off, Nathan's own grim smile reflected that of Chris'. They were four against fourteen, but he knew which ones he would put his money on.

      "What do we do with the bodies?" Rodgers asked.

      Nathan looked across the bloody clearing. "Grounds too froze to bury them. Best pile them over near that overhang, throw some rocks over 'em to keep the wolves away."

      JD joined them. Nathan looked over at the young man, wondering if he was upset over not being called to join the group riding hell bent after the retreating gunmen. When the dark brown eyes met his though there was a large measure of understanding, an equal amount of determination and the same touch of worry that Nathan was feeling.

      The young sheriff emptied the cylinder of his gun and calmly started to reload. "Those boys are gonna have hell to pay," he said confidently.

      Patting JD's shoulder, Nathan nodded. "Have the ladies gather some water and bandages. I'm going to check on Ezra then tend the miners."

      He came into the warm cave to find Misses Rodgers tucking the blanket tighter around Ezra. "He hasn't woke."

      "He will. I been pouring the laudanum down him heavy," he lied.

      That seemed to satisfy the miner's wife as she merely patted Ezra's arm before standing. "I'll get you some food, Mister Jackson."

      "I'd 'ppreciate it ma'am."

      As she moved off, Nathan knelt next to Ezra. It had been nearly twelve hours since the man had been awake, since he'd take the last water. "Ezra," he said quietly, "you can't die on me now, not after I done give 'em all hope.... Not after I done planned on how I'm gonna apologize to you."

"Looks like we found 'em," Vin said sarcastically.

      Chris merely glared at him, though to his right he heard Buck snicker a little and saw Josiah smile from Vin's left. They were crouched on a rise overlooking the Reagan Mine. After exiting the valley, they had been careful to stay far enough behind the attackers to not scare them off or let them know they were being followed. Now, with the last of the sunlight fading, they were looking down on the huge mine, acres of water-and-dynamite-carved mountainside.

      Vin whistled as he looked around the destroyed area. "Kind of a mess, ain't it?"

      "Almost as bad as the coal mines back home," Buck remarked.

      Chris ignored the banter, staring intently down at the target. "Three on the gate," he remarked.

      "Another two on the opposite ridge," Josiah said.

      "Too many to go through the front door," Buck stated, looking hesitantly over at Chris.

      As he spoke, Vin had taken out his spyglass to closer study the area. "Don't see any on this side or roaming around. Reckon he don't expect anyone to try to coming over the cliff."

      "That's cause a mountain goat couldn't get down this cliff," Buck observed.

      "But a man with the proper equipment could," Josiah said confidently.

      The ex-preacher moved carefully away from the eighty-foot drop that loomed below them. The other three exchanged confused looks. A minute later, Josiah reappeared, holding the tackle and rope that had gotten the sniper up to their stronghold.

      "You know how to use this stuff, Josiah?" Chris questioned.

      "And what the hell made you bring it?" Buck asked in amazement.

      Josiah gestured behind him. "I've seen these kind of mines before, knew there would be drops, just thought these might come in handy. As for knowing how," Josiah smiled. "I've climbed a few mountains. Besides, it's much easier getting down than up."

      "Yeah," Vin said, "that's what worries me."

      "Don't worry on it, Vin," Chris said. "Cause you're staying up here. Anyone comes out of that main office - shoot them."

      Buck looked down the cliff. "And what are we gonna be doing?"

      With a feral grin, Chris reached in to his pocket and carefully lit a cheroot. "We're going to be paying a visit to that dynamite shed."

      "Damn," Buck said in admiration. "I had hoped for a few bangs for the holiday, but this ain't exactly what I had in mind."

      "Josiah," Chris ordered. "Get us down there."

      They moved to directly opposite the well-lit office. Vin looked at the other three. "You boys be careful. Ain't none of you angels to be flying down that cliff."

      Dropping to his hands and knees, he crawled as close to the edge as he could, carefully hidden in the snowy shadows.

      The others moved further down the ridge, finally coming to an area where a crevice, cut into the mountain, would give enough cover for them to come down in relative obscurity. Josiah tied the tackle off to a tree, well away from the unstable bank. Motioning to Buck, he slipped the loop he had tied over the bigger man's head and shoulders, passed his waist.

      "You go any lower and we're gonna need a real preacher," Buck quipped.

      Giving him a glare, Josiah said, "You gotta sit on the rope, keep it just under your cheeks."

      Buck let out a long-suffering sigh, took the rope from Josiah and adjusted it to where he had been instructed. "Got it."

      "All you have to do is stay in that loop and hold on," Josiah said. Buck reached up and took a death grip on the rough, thick rope. "If you swing toward the rocks, don't kick hard, just a little tap will keep you away and keep the rocks from falling."

      "I'll cover you on the way down," Chris assured him. "When you get to the bottom, take cover and wait for us."

      Taking a deep breath and blowing it out, Buck nodded, "Let's get it done."

      Controlling his fear for his friend, Chris helped keep the rope straight while Josiah fed the rope through the pulley. To avoid detection, he and Buck then crawled to the edge. Chris held onto Buck's shoulders as he slipped over the crumbling ground. Slowly, the big gunslinger eased off and started his descent.

      While Chris trusted Josiah to know what he was talking about, it was still nerve wracking watching his oldest friend dangling far above the discarded boulders. Another part of him was surprised at how quickly and easily it seemed before Buck touched bottom, slipping out of the rope and disappearing into the rocks.

      The unease now turned inward as Chris realized he was the next to try the trick. Josiah hauled up the rope in silence, then handed it to Chris.

      "How are you gonna get down?" Chris wondered, having noticed Josiah using his weight to feed out the rope for Buck.

      "Tie it off different," Josiah said calmly. "Called rapelling. I'm not the best at it, but I can get down."

      Chris snaked to the edge, looked back instead of down. "Be careful."

      Josiah touched his hat. "You too."

      It took a minute to work up his courage to let go of the ledge but he saw Josiah standing tall and firm in the trees, and knew the ex-priest would not let him fall. With a whoosh of breath, Chris let go and found himself almost floating down. The feeling was not unpleasant and Chris relaxed a little. The cliff loomed too close and he kicked off. The world suddenly spun around him and he nearly yelped in surprise. Chris' shoulder brushed hard against the crumbling rocks, sending a cascade of stones down the cliff. He rotated again before grabbing the rock with one hand, the sharp stone scraping his palm, bringing a muffled curse. He was still descending, Josiah not being able to see his predicament. When next he swung in, he tapped the rock gently with his boot, just enough to bounce off. A minute later, he couldn't remember ever being so pleased to sink into ankle deep snow.

      Jerking out of the rope, he gave it a sharp tug and it was immediately pulled skyward. Chris slipped into the shadows where he'd last seen Buck. Through the shadows and mustache, Chris could see that his less than graceful descent had been noted.

      "Kinda looked like a top there, pard," Buck joked. "Guess you just ain't got the natural grace of some of us."

      Chris only glared at him before un-holstering his gun and turning his attention back to the cliff. They watched in amazement as Josiah came down with surprising speed and an impressive agility for someone his size. When he joined them in the boulders, he was grinning.

      "I'd forgotten how much fun that is," he said.

      Chris held his opinion about that. Gesturing with the gun, he said, "Go."

      They moved without any hint of trouble to the small shed set as far into the corner of the mine as possible. Large red letters, TNT was printed on all sides. Chris was surprised there was no lock on the door but merely wrote it up to Reagan's obvious arrogance.

      "Chris," Buck asked as he started inside, "I hate to ask this but do you have a plan or do I just grab as much as I can?"

      With a quick nod, Chris said, "Yeah, I got a plan. Get five sticks for each of you, then hang some on the door of this shed."

      Looking at him suspiciously, Buck asked, "Why?"

      "Vin'll know what to do with it."

      Buck looked thoughtful for a minute, then followed Chris' orders, emerging a few minutes later with the sticks. "I really hate this stuff, you know."

      "You'd hate not taking care of these guys more," Josiah observed, taking the dynamite being offered.

      "Damn straight," Buck said harshly, all joking gone.

      "The bastard leading this afternoon is mine," Chris said in a quiet deadly tone. Neither man questioned it. "Let's go."

      "In the front I suppose," Buck said.

      Chris grinned at him, lighting a new smoke and sticking it in his mouth.

      Vin had watched the strange, dancing descent of the other three through the spyglass, admiring Buck and Josiah's grace and grimacing when Chris had started spinning. He had lost them to the shadows for a while before spotting them at the explosives shed. Through the moonlit darkness, he watched as Buck loaded them all with dynamite before hanging six sticks on the outside of the shed. Vin understood immediately what was expected of him.

      Turning his spyglass on the office, he could see several men moving around inside, though not as many has had escaped the fight at the encampment, which meant there were more than miners in the outlying shacks. That thought made him frown. While he had no problem killing the hired guns, he didn't want to hit anyone just because they were working for the wrong man. Thinking on it, he realized that it would only be the gunmen firing at him. If the miners had any sense, they would either run like hell when the shooting started or stay in the shacks out of the line of fire.

      All thoughts of anything other than protecting his friends took over as he watched them approach the main office. He raised his rifle, carefully judging the distance to the dynamite. It was an easy shot. Chris walked boldly into the moonlight and up to the front of the steps. At the same time as Vin cursed Chris' boldness, he had to admire the man's style.

Chris waved Buck and Josiah to the sides, motioning them down in the inky darkness at each end of the porch. He slipped the hammer guard off his Colt before walking calmly up the steps - and kicking in the door.

      Four men whirled toward him, two going for their guns. They were dead before they crashed onto the oak floor. The remaining two froze; staring in fear at the angel of death that stood in the doorway. Chris came into the room, gun held out before him.

      Directly in front of him was a large, ornately carved cherry wood desk. Seated in a cowhide chair next to him was an older man, gray-haired with a large curling mustache and mutton chop sideburns. Reynolds, the one who had shot Ezra in the back, glared with open hatred at him, though Chris noted it was well tempered with fear. The same could not be said for the man in the chair. Reagan seemed put out, as if discovering something in his whiskey glass.

      "Mister Reagan," Chris said pleasantly. "You and I need to talk."

      "Mister Larabee." Reagan crossed his arms over his chest, sighing. "You, sir, have caused me no end of trouble."

      "Me?" Chris asked, sounding vaguely amused. "Just cause I stopped you from killing a bunch of innocent folks and taking their land, you think I'm causing you trouble?"

      Shouts now sounded from outside. Reagan smiled back, tilting his head toward the door. "I would imagine those will be my men."

      Vin's rifle sounded through the darkness, three shoots in close order. Chris' smile grew. "I would imagine that'd be my friend."

      Anger touched Reagan's eyes, thinned his mouth. "What do you want?"

      "First," Chris drawled, "I want all these boys to put down their guns."

      "We ain't going to do that," Reynolds said.

      Cocking the hammer of his gun back, Chris said quietly, "Then you ain't getting paid, cause your boss is gonna be dead."

      The shooting from outside had slowed, turning into sniping. Since Buck and Josiah still hadn't come in or started the serious fireworks, he took it to mean things were about to get real noisy.

      "Mister Reagan, you, me and this snake to your left are going to town where we're gonna wait for Judge Travis and the army -"

      The shooting grew heavier outside. The four men in front of him, looked anxiously toward the door, hoping for help. Chris never turned, never moved, trusting the other three to protect his back. The first explosion shook the small building, screams following the echoes into the dark.

      The man to his left broke. "Mister, I ain't shot no one, I just -"

      "Get out," Chris ordered lowly. The man pitched his gun to the floor, and the man next to him did the same. They ran out with their hands raised, yelling that they gave up.

      "You think you can hold off twenty men with what, three, four of you?" Reagan sneered.

      The shooting outside picked up, but no one came near the door. "Yeah, I do," Chris replied casually.

More men poured out of the two bunkhouses, most, as Vin had hoped running down the wide road that led out of the manmade canyon. It would be a long walk to Buckhorn but it was better then staying. He fired half a dozen shots, not aiming as much as holding the men in place while the miners escaped. Another half-dozen gunhands were starting out of the second bunkhouse.

      From the front of the office, he could see the returning fire from Buck and Josiah, had heard and seen the results of the first stick of dynamite thrown by Buck. A few straggling miners moved by, making Vin lose sight of his targets for a minute. He came up on one knee to sight better - and felt the tug of a too-close bullet. The next two shots took men down.

      With a smile, Vin shifted his sighting and found the dangling dynamite. "See you in hell boys."

      The explosion rocked the area, echoed through the maimed mountainside, bringing down large boulders that added to the chaos of noise and smoke. One side of the closest bunkhouse vanished under the cloud of resulting debris. For a long time nothing stirred except for the dust. Then men once more started out of the buildings, covered with fine dust, hands up, many staggering. Vin ignored them, turning back to the fight at the office.

      The huge explosion rattled the windows, staggering Chris a little. "'Course, I'd say you're down a few hands now."

      Reagan's assured demeanor faded a little. Reynolds only continued to stare at Chris. "Mighty brave man with a loose, cocked gun," he sneered.

      The hatred that Chris held for the man now turned to cold disgust. He gestured toward the still seated Reagan. "Do I look stupid to you? I draw on you and your boss shoots me."

      "Don't be stupid, Reynolds," Reagan hissed. "This is no time to -"

      "This ain't about working for you no more, Mister Reagan. This is between me and Larabee."

      Chris didn't even bother looking at Reagan, merely ordered, "Stand up, drop your coat and move away."

      Despite keeping his eyes on Reynolds, he saw Reagan twitch. "I'm not armed."

      "Then get the hell out of the way," Chris snarled.

      He watched the heavyset man struggle to his feet, fanning out his coat so that Chris could see his hips were bare. Chris knew this was no guarantee that the man was unarmed but right now all he wanted to do was kill Reynolds. The image of Ezra when he'd first seen him, the helplessness in Nathan's eyes all came back to him, narrowing his vision down to the taller man in front of him. Even the gunfire he could here outside died away. He slipped his gun back into the holster.

      Reynolds started moving around the desk. Chris watched him, hands loose at his sides. "Remember that gambler?" He said quietly.

      Reynolds stopped, hands coming off his belt to hang by his sides. The look the man gave him was filled with a killing lust that Chris was more than familiar with. "Damn interfering bastard -"

      "Heard you shot him in the back?" Chris said blandly.

      "Got what he deserve-"

      "He's a friend of mine." Chris kept his voice low and level, but all the anger he had felt that first moment when he had seen Ezra filter into his tone. Fear now overrode the killing lust in Reynolds eyes. He moved --

      Chris' hand flashed down - and Reynolds was thrown back by Chris' bullet, his gun still in leather. There was a straggled curse from Reagan as blood splattered his expensive suit. Reynolds slid down the wall, eyes still locked with Chris', unbelieving that he was dead.

      "Damn gambler...." He cursed, blood running down his chin. With a cough that sprayed blood across his chin, he fell sideways.

      A savage sense of satisfaction swept down Chris' chest. He turned his attention to the last man standing in the room. Reagan was staring at Reynolds with open disgust. When he switched his gaze to Chris, there was fear and a certain amount of resolve.

      "You have gotten your revenge, Mister Larabee, now let's talk about your price."

      Lips curling in sneer, Chris said, "You just ain't--"

      The wall behind him blew in. Chris cried out as something slammed into his back, slicing pain racing down his arm. The motion and pain sent his gun sailing toward Reynolds' body. He staggered forward, trying to reach it before Reagan, but another explosion rocked the office, sending him to the floor. Chris pushed himself to his knees - and found himself eye-level with the business end of his own gun.

      "Get up," Reagan snarled.

      Clamping a hand over the fast bleeding wound, Chris struggled to his feet. The explosion that had knocked him down had been too close to the building for Buck or Josiah to have done it deliberately. While he prayed that the others were okay, he took comfort in the fact that none of Reagan's men had come into the room. They stood for a minute, both hearing the gunfight outside dying down.

Vin sighed in relief when he saw the gunslinger who had been calling Chris out thrown back out of his sight. He had recognized the man as the one who had led the attack that afternoon but he didn't understand Chris' determination to be the one who took care of him.

      Buck stood up, lit stick of dynamite in his hand. Across the wagon rutted road, two of Reagan's men moved to get a shot. Vin sent one to hell and one back down into the rocks and snow.

      Something happened. He never saw exactly what - but it was not hard to miss the results. Part of the porch, the front wall and all of the windows in the office exploded, sending shrapnel into the cold night air. Vin flinched, then turned his attention to finding his three friends. To one side, he could see Buck lying next to the side of the office. The tall, ladies' man was moving slowly, seemed to be trying to get his body to work. Josiah was on the other end, still shooting; taking shots at the dwindling opposition.

      Inside, through the shattered window, things had gone completely wrong. As Vin watched, Chris climbed painfully to his feet. Just barely in his vision, Vin could see that someone was holding a gun on his friend. He didn't know if it was Reagan or if there might have been other gunhands in the room that he hadn't been able to see. Either way, Chris was in serious trouble.

      Vin sprinted closer to the edge of the cliff, dropped down on his stomach, bringing the rifle up. There was no shot from any angle he could find. "Damnit!"

The shooting had stopped.

      Chris said, "Sounds like we aren't going to be alone much longer."

      "Turn around. We're going outside, Mister Larabee." Cocking the gun, Reagan said, "I would advise you to warn your men that one move from them and you die."

      Without acknowledging the threat, Chris turned toward the door. He felt Reagan come up very close behind him. The blood was flowing through his fingers as they moved carefully over the wreckage of the office wall.

      Reagan ordered, "Stop. Tell them to move where I can see them."

      Chris almost smiled. "Buck, Josiah, step into the light."

      There was a couple of minute's silence, then Josiah spoke from the darkness, "Buck's down, Chris."

      Grinding his teeth together to fight the fear that statement started, Chris started to say something when the gun was shoved hard into his ribs. "Bring him out!" Reagan shouted.

      Josiah walked through the light spilling out front, disappearing off to the side. There was a soft scramble to their left and a minute later; Josiah staggered back into the light, holding Buck up with an arm around his waist and Buck's arm over his shoulder. Chris took a deep breath. There was blood running down Buck's pale face. His old friend was conscious but it was obvious that he was not aware of them.

      "Drop your guns," Reagan said. "Put him down, then go bring up two horses."

      Josiah's gaze swept briefly over Chris. The nod Chris gave him was almost too small to see but Josiah eased Buck down to the ground, dropped his side arm, then once more vanished into the dark.

      "Two men?" Reagan questioned. "You came in with only two men?"

      "How many you got left, Reagan? Ain't the quantity, it's the quality." He almost laughed at that, since it sounded like something Ezra would have said.

      "How much did they pay you, Mister Larabee?" Reagan asked. "Those claims must be paying out more than I thought, if they could afford you and your gang."

      Chris didn't bother to answer, knowing that Reagan would never accept that his involvement was only because of a trick of fate. Chris wondered if it had been a good trick or not. Ezra had nearly died and now Nathan doubted himself; Buck was wounded.

      "Can I check my man?" Chris asked.

      "No," Reagan snapped. "Just stand still until those horses get here."

      "Then what?"

      "You and I are going to leave."

      Chris chuckled. "Are you going to try to tell me you're going to let me go afterwards?"

      "No," Reagan said. "I'm going to kill you as soon as we're away. Think of it this way, your two men get to stay alive."

      The sound of hooves on frozen ground drew their attention as Josiah appeared out of the night leading two geldings, a bay and an appaloosa. He tied them to the hitching post in front of the office. Josiah then stepped to Buck and dragged him back. Reagan immediately prodded Chris with the gun.

      Still holding his arm, Chris moved forward. Reagan stayed carefully behind him as they came down the debris-covered steps. When Chris stepped onto the churned up ground, Reagan moved around, keeping him between Josiah and himself -

      One shot rang out. Reagan's head snapped around, blood showering the back of Chris' coat as Vin's bullet killed him. Vin's shot had been perfect, just as Chris had known it would be. Chris looked at Reagan with contempt. His only thought, after once more remembering Ezra, was that Reagan had gotten off easy.

      "Better let me get that tied off," Josiah said as he stepped forward, indicating Chris' bleeding arm.

      Nodding, Chris moved the few feet to where Buck was laying flat on his back. He sank down beside his friend while Josiah went to look for something to use as a bandage.

      The big gunslinger smiled drunkenly up at him. "Hidy, pard," he slurred.

      "You okay, Buck?"

      Buck whistled, raising a hand to his head. "What happened? Must have been a hell of a party."

      Before he could reply Josiah said from inside the office, "Hell of a party is about right."

      Leaning in to check the long cut on Buck's temple, Chris sighed. It wasn't bad, Buck had only been rattled a little. Chris waved up to Vin, knowing he would be worried.

      "'Bout damn time!" Floated down to them.

      "Hey, Chris?"

      Chris leaned back against the hitching rail as Josiah sat down next to him. "Yeah, Buck?" he answered as he held out his arm, trying not to flinch as the ex-preacher started to wrap over the shirt.

      "Is the ground moving?"

      "No," Chris said. "Pretty soon though we'll be moving your sorry ass home."

      "Good," Buck said as he closed his eyes. "Home would be good. Not moving ground would be good too."

      Closing his own eyes, Chris said, "Yeah, home would be good."

      "They're coming!"

      Vin waved at the sentry that was shouting from the head of the trail. It would have been hard to miss their coming, Vin mused, hauling the noisy wagon up the trail as they were. He knew the others were probably worried. They had not dared travel at night, so after getting Chris and Buck doctored up, they had moved into one of the bunkhouses. Some of the miners had cautiously come back, only to find themselves unemployed. The men had decided to wait for Judge Travis, see they could purchase the mine or talk to whoever ended up with it.

Vin had taken a wagon and team from the livery, both for Buck and soon for Ezra. As they came into the encampment, Vin could see JD and Nathan rushing toward them, worry in their expressions.

      "Buck!?" JD sprinted by them, followed closely by Nathan.

      "Not so damn loud," Buck complained from the back of the back of the wagon.

      Hearing Buck sounding almost normal, Nathan stopped next to Vin as he climbed down off the cold wagon. "What happened?"

      "Buck kinda had his tintype shattered. Now, he's just grumpy," Vin answered. Chris dismounted next to him, having refused the wagon ride. "Chris got hisself cut pretty good, might want to wrestle him down and take a look."

      "JD, just get out of the way." Buck was trying to get off the wagon and JD was trying to help, only making matters worse.

      Josiah, along with several of the women, moved to untangle them. Buck leaned on the nearest lady, waving the others away. Vin smiled at that, though he grimaced at the hastily wrapped bandage around Chris' arm.

      "Get over to the cook tent, Chris. I'll get this stubborn skirt chaser down then --" Nathan said.

      "Ezra?" Vin and Chris asked together.

      Nathan's joy at them getting back alive turned more guarded. The dark eyes connected with Vin's. "He ain't woke up since yesterday."

      Vin took a sharp breath, then felt Chris' hand on his shoulder. "Guess we'd better go wake his ass up then," Chris said firmly.

      Nathan led the way, motioning for Josiah and JD to haul Buck up to the cook tent. They walked into the warm cave to find Misses Rodgers sitting there talking quietly to a still sleeping Ezra.

      "Everyone's waiting for you, Mister Standish," she said, smiling warmly at him. "Gentlemen, I'm sure you could all use some food."

      "Sure could, my stomach's thinking my throat's been cut," Vin said with fake cheerfulness. Chris moved on by him, sitting down next to Ezra while Nathan started toward the fire and the pot of warm water.

      As Missus Rodgers left, Vin took a deep breath. He had thought it was over, had thought when they got back Ezra would be awake and smiling at them. But....

      "'Bout time you woke up there, Ezra."

      Chris' words brought Vin and Nathan spinning around. Vin stepped closer, meeting Ezra's green eyes. The gambler smiled at him before turning his hazy gaze to Chris. Vin glanced sideways at Chris, watching a wide smile fill Chris' face.

      "You done good, Ezra," Chris said simply.

      Once more Vin found himself watching Ezra's eyes, knowing he was too groggy and weak to affect his usual mask of indifference. Ezra managed a half-smile, though the green eyes glittered with pride.

      "Thanks... " Ezra whispered. "Shots?"

      Vin glanced at Nathan. "Must have heard part of the fight yesterday."

      Patting Ezra's shoulder, Vin explained, "Bastards came again. We got the best of 'em. That card trick you showed me worked real well."

      Ezra blinked hazily at him, struggling to understand the words. Vin was not sure he remembered the cards. "Okay?"

      "We chased the bastards down," Chris assured him with a feral smile. "Won't be bothering no one."

      "Get some of this down him," Nathan said, handing them both water and laudanum.

      Chris lifted Ezra up and Vin helped him take two glasses of water. When he reached back to Nathan for a third, Vin could see the guilt mixed with the relief. While he could help Ezra mend from the bullets there was very little he could do for Nathan. That was only something Ezra could help with.

      "I'm gonna see to Buck," their healer said, taking the pot of water with him.

      Vin exchanged a quick look with Chris, who only shrugged.  Vin eased some of the strong painkiller down Ezra.

      "Nathan?" Ezra questioned, having sensed or seen that something was wrong.

      Even crawling back from the grave the man was too sharp. "Nothing," Vin said. "It's all over."

      That brought another smile from the Ezra. "Home?"

      "Real soon, Ezra," Chris promised. "Real soon."

Very carefully, Ezra stretched his right arm, flexing the fingers. It was one of the few parts of his body he could currently move without pain. Right now, that didn't bother him too much. He was alive. He had saved lives. The miners had not only replaced his winnings from the first night but had insisted that any reward money from Reagan's hired guns go to him. And today they were heading home. Everything would be wonderful - if he could just figure out what was wrong with Nathan.

      Looking over at his present nurse, he said, "Vin?"

      "Hum?"

      "What's wrong with Mister Jackson?"

      After three weeks, he was finally able to carry on a conversation, if only for a little while, and could sit propped up for a while each day. Unfortunately, JD, Buck and Chris had headed back before he was recovered enough to persuade one of them to tell him what was going on. He had asked Josiah. Josiah had only told him to ask Nathan. Now, he watched as Vin flinched and looked away.

      "Reckon you'd better ask Nathan that," Vin repeated Josiah's advice.

      As Vin helped him take some more broth, Ezra reviewed what he had observed. At first, he had thought maybe Nathan was upset about him getting the reward money, but since the ex-slave had been there when the miners had happily promised it to him, he had decided that wasn't it. Next he had considered that perhaps he had said something while delirious. While many of his opinions on things had changed recently, there were still old memories and old words that might have surfaced.

      When Nathan had tended him during the night though, Ezra had gotten the feeling more of unease than dislike or anger.

      The object of his concern came in at that minute, spilling bright sunshine through the cave's entrance. Ezra squinted. "Sorry, Ezra...."

      "Quite all right, Nathan," Ezra said, hoping to put his friend at ease enough to ask him what was wrong. "If you don't mind pulling it open a little, it has gotten very gloomy in here."

      "Yeah, sure," Nathan agreed quickly.

      "Ya want some more, Ezra?" Vin asked.

      "No, thank you." He smiled at his friend, once more letting himself enjoy the fact that everyone had survived the war intact.

      Vin stood, sat the bowl down on a rock before moving past Nathan into the daylight. A minute later Nathan was fussing over him, checking already checked bandages, checking his fever, making sure he wasn't getting a bed sore. Ezra endured it all in impatient silence. It was undignified and painful but if it would help him get better sooner, he would put up with it.

      Nathan leaned back with a satisfied nod. "Looks good. Gonna have to wrap you up and make sure we get enough laudanum down you for the trip."

      "I will agree to the administering during what I know will be a rather arduous journey but once we arrive in Four Corners...."

      "I know," Nathan agreed. "No more unless "absolutely necessary.""

      Ezra was suddenly worried that maybe his insistence about the painkiller was part of the problem. "It is not that I don't trust your very capable healing skills, Mister Jackson but -"

      He didn't get any further as Nathan suddenly jumped up. "I'd better go get -"

      "Nathan," Ezra said as firmly as he could. "Tell me what I have done to offend you, sir."

      Nathan spun around, eyes wide. "What? Offend me? No, Ezra, you ain't done nothing -"

      "Then kindly tell me what the problem is," Ezra requested, yawning.

      "You get some sleep. We can talk 'bout -"

      "I will sleep better knowing the truth of whatever it is that is obviously bothering you."

      For another instant, Ezra thought Nathan would refuse. He looked everywhere in the room except at him, as if seeking an escape route. Finally, just as Ezra was about to absolve him of answering, Nathan came back and sat down.

      "How much you remember about the day after you got shot? The day we came in?" Nathan asked without looking at him.

      For an instant Ezra thought of not answering, thought of telling Nathan he didn't remember anything. The truth was he didn't remember much and what he did remember scared him, was full of pain and cold.

      "I... I remember you being there," Ezra said, refusing to give voice to how much he had been warmed by his friends' presence. "You helped me." He stopped at the look of absolute misery on Nathan's face.

      "Aw, damn," Nathan muttered. For another few heartbeats, he stared at the dirt covered cave floor, and then he looked up directly into Ezra's eyes. "There was three of ya shot. I only had enough supplies to help two..." his voice caught, head dropping. Ezra could see the tears starting down his cheeks.

      "I used... Ezra," Nathan sighed. "I used my supplies to save the two miners cause I thought you was gonna die."

      Ezra stared at the bowed head, at the slumped shoulders. The revelation left him shocked. Vaguely, he supposed he should have been angry but all he felt was sadness. Somehow, somewhere in the year they had been together, Ezra had thought he and Nathan had reached an understanding, had become friends. To find out that Nathan valued two strangers over him hurt as much as the healing wounds.

      He closed his eyes, turned to face the wall, trying to come to terms with what had happened, with why Nathan would abandon him.

      "I am truly sorry, Ezra. I.... you was so bad off.... I just.... I gave up."

      He heard the thick emotions in Nathan's voice, the regret, sorrow and confusion, but at that minute, he couldn't face him. "Please leave," Ezra pleaded.

      There was the soft tread of boots on rock; the light blinked for a minute as the big man passed through the entrance, then Ezra was alone.

      He realized that it was the first time he had been alone since that day.

      Ezra forced himself back to that horribly long wait for the others. He remembered the miners trying to help, stopping the bleeding, keeping him warm. Waiting for him to die. He had been waiting for the same thing. Through the pain had been only one thought - seeing the others before he died.

      That memory stopped him. Why was that? Had he been waiting to tell the others what happened for revenge? Had he hoped that, maybe, Nathan could relieve the pain enough to let him die in peace? Nathan had come but had given up on him, had believed him to be dying. Nathan had helped the others first.

      But Ezra had thought he was dying, had even told Nathan that bandages would be a waste. Nathan might have helped the other two first, but he had spent the rest of his time saving Ezra. Ezra had given up; but the others, Nathan included, had not given up on him. The presence of the others - Nathan's gentle insistent touch, Vin's quiet words, Buck's demands, JD's reading and even Chris' silent vigil - had reached through the darkness and refused to let him go. Ezra's eyes snapped open. He was alive - due to tremendous and innovative effort from Nathan and sheer stubbornness from the others.

      "Damn," Ezra muttered.

      Rolling to his side, he yelped at the sudden pain of movement - and instantly Nathan was kneeling next to him. "Easy, Ezra, you ain't up to --"

      Ezra grabbed Nathan's arm, jerked himself closer. "You did nothing wrong."

      Nathan's muscles tightened and Ezra knew that if he hadn't been afraid of harming him, the healer would have jerked away. As it was, he gripped Ezra's shoulders pushed him firmly back down. Ezra watched, forming his arguments carefully.

      "Mister Jackson," Ezra said. "Do you think you made a wrong decision? Do you believe that helping me first might have lead to a different outcome?"

      Easing away, Nathan leaned back. "I don't know," he finally admitted.

      "You were faced with an appalling choice. You made the only decision possible given the circumstances," Ezra explained.

      "Ezra, I oughtn't have given up...."

      "Nathan," Ezra cut in, filling his words with quiet pleading. "You never gave up. If Vin and Buck helped save me, it was only under your direction. "

      Nathan wouldn't meet his eyes. "I turned away...."

      "Only long enough to care for others." Ezra frowned, not sure Nathan was listening to him.

      Shaking his head, Nathan said, "I was thinkin' I might've given up cause... cause we ain't always gotten on."

      "If I had the energy, Mister Jackson, I would laugh at that." He put his hand on Nathan's arm. "You would not do that."

      "How can you be so sure?" Nathan whispered, obviously, desperately wanting to believe him.

      "Because I know you, Nathan," Ezra answered simply.

      Ezra watched the tears come into Nathan's eyes. Grabbing Nathan's large hand, he held on tight. It was the last straw and Nathan was suddenly crying softly in what Ezra knew was a combination exhaustion and relief.

      It seemed like forever before Nathan started wiping his eyes, sniffing slightly. "I'm sorry, Ezra. Got no reason to cry like a baby."

      Before Ezra could answer, a large yawn hit, barely covered by his unencumbered hand. That was all it took. Nathan was instantly back being their healer, moving to tuck the blankets around Ezra. Ezra managed to give him a glare before blinking, trying to fight off the sleep.

      "I expect that this slight nap I am going to engage in will not hinder our departure for home," he insisted.

      "We'll see," Nathan hedged.

      "Mister Jackson, my bed awaits," Ezra said, words starting to slur.

      "Go to sleep, Ezra," Nathan countered.

      Ezra cursed silently as he yawned again. "Only a few minutes, then we can be off."

      "Go to sleep, Ezra, I'll be right here."

      "I know you will be, Nathan." Ezra forced his eyes to stay open just a little longer, watched a soft smile touch Nathan's face.

      Blinking away the last of his tears, Nathan sighed. Much of what Ezra had said was the same as what the others had been trying to tell him for weeks but hearing it from Ezra, knowing the man didn't blame him, made the words seem new and right. Nathan felt the tension leave his shoulders, suddenly felt like really smiling for the first time since Ezra had awakened. He gave Ezra's shoulder a quick squeeze.

      "Thanks, Ezra."

      "Nathan?" Vin asked from behind him.

      He smiled. "He's okay. Just sleeping."

      Vin came over and sat down next to them. "Reckon he's gonna do that a lot."

      "Best thing for him, next to winning money," Nathan said.

      "He does both real well. Guess we're all good at what we do," Vin said, looking purposely at Nathan.

      Nathan gave him a crooked smile. "Ya'll ain't got to lecture me no more. I get it."

      "What happened?"

      Nathan gave a little snort, knowing he couldn't hide anything from the sharp Texan. "Just had a little talk about things with the old card-slick."

      "Ezra get you straightened out?" Vin asked, moving to help pack the last of the their supplies.

      Giving him a quick glance, Nathan nodded. "Yeah, made me hear what ya'll been telling me all along."

      "That you did what was right," Vin clarified.

      "No," Nathan said, pleased by Vin's look of surprise. "That it was more than just me that saved him - it was all of us."

The End


End file.
